


Coping

by Ikana



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aftercare, Angst, Blindfolds, Breathplay, Choking, Consensual Abuse, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Hurt/Comfort, Knifeplay, Lingerie, M/M, Mental Instability, Scratching, Self-Worth Issues, Shaving, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence, hints of restoring self esteem, kinda long foreplay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:54:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23838661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ikana/pseuds/Ikana
Summary: Bokuto is a man of extremes. When things become too much he lets it out. Akaashi is a good and willing man for this.Violence means nothing to them. It is their way. Nobody else would ever understand. That is what makes them a perfect match.Yet beneath the surface, there lingers so much more.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 10
Kudos: 57





	1. Origin

**Author's Note:**

> I don't support violence.  
> But I like it in fiction.  
> It's written, it's not real.  
> Remember that.

It’s one of those days. When self doubt, fear and frustration pile above the limit a single person can take. It is the hatred that burns and tingles, the pure bare loathing of the self, of the goals one can’t reach whenever pleased, the desperation to perform better than anybody else! The pressure that tingles, the ire that boils within the veins that allows no outlet. As if your whole body is about to burst! 

Nobody would understand such a thing. Not in a million years. Nobody is capable of comprehending what it makes a person want to do to themselves once the outbreak happens, when just a little thing, something ordinary and insanely tiny, is enough to tip the glass, to spill it and to cause it to rip and burst in like a flood. Anything could trigger in these moments, really. If your hair is a tad too long and it tickles your nape unpleasantly, or a single book on the wrong place. A bird chirping or a person looking at your weirdly. 

Akaashi knows them already. Those bursts. Bokuto was not a man known to live a life in limits. He was everything. Goofy, energetic, loud, happy, passionate, intense, moody, gorgeous, ugly, disgusting, angry and insanely pitiful. 

The breath is knocked out the black haired’s chest as he gets slammed against the wall of their home. Akaashi had done nothing but to greet his roommate, had not come to see him but had called throughout the flat to announce that he welcomed him home. One of those tiny things that held the potential of triggering it.

There are people who want to hurt when they feel like this, and people who need the pain to cope. Bokuto does it both, he takes and gives as he pleases and Akaashi had fallen victim to him more than just once before. Yet this is not a big deal, Akaashi keeps telling himself. He endures it for Bokuto. The popular, well admired Bokuto who has girls swooning over him and who has the team members at his back to cheer him up when he needs it. Nobody knows these colours of the young man. Nobody except for Akaashi. 

“Easy!”, the younger gasps as he reaches to cup Bokuto’s cheek gently. Yet Bokuto grabs his hand and smashes it against the wall in such a forceful way that he thinks his wrist just broke. Those would leave bruises, both know it. To further shut Akaashi the fuck up, the older leans in and bites his neck so hard it gets Akaashi dizzy. His knees buckle a bit. He fears Bokuto might have bitten a nerve, a thing that had happened before and had left him with a feeling of dullness for the course of a few days. The neck was a dangerous spot to bite too hard. 

A knee gets rammed between Akaashi’s legs and he gasps, for it is so sudden and so fast the sound reverberating from the impact makes him cringe. Bokuto could break things easily. Just what would give out earlier, the knee cap or the wall? 

Bokuto switches sides and bites the opposite shoulder. The teeth sink in so violently it makes Akaashi cry out and shiver. He would die to know what had ticked Bokuto off so much, but there would never be an answer to it. There are so many things going on, so much pressure on their backs, it was impossible to name just one cause. It is the poisonous cocktail of life and success, of money and existence, of reputation and appearance. 

Akaashi feels with Bokuto. He too loves their twistedness. It is an extent of insanity that makes them so dependent on each other. Nobody could understand it when the snap happens, nobody who has not experienced it has any clue about what it means to undergo this rush. Therefore Akaashi participates. Sometimes he needs it too. The punishment and the searing pain, the knowledge of having someone around who is strong, who can keep you in check and control you. Someone who can keep you from doing the worst to yourself, from taking a lighter and burning your skin, from grasping a blade and slicing it, or from using your nails to dig it in so deep before ripping it open with bare hands just to feel the sensation so powerful it overshadows the demons and makes them shut up. 

It’s coping. It is easy. It is nasty. And sexy. It means sex. It means fucking. Like beasts in heat, rutting like mindless broken whores from cheap porn episodes. Horny and careless as long as it’s hard and long to get rammed up any hole available. 

A tug at the bitten flesh rips him back into reality. Spacing out in such a situation, how unwise of Akaashi to do such a thing. Bokuto is already so impatient and greedy. He takes the hem of Akaashi’s shirt and pulls it up without a word of warning. The motions are uncontrolled and wild, Akaashi feels the other’s clenched fist hit him beneath the fabric. It had moved too fast in eagerness of pulling the shirt off. The hit on his chin doesn’t really hurt him though, so his arms rise to support the eager man. 

His tracks get stopped and Bokuto catches the wrists once again and smacks them against the wall. “Who allowed you to move, huh?!”, he roared against him, spitting at the pulled up shirt in the process. Akaashi is relieved he cannot see his partner’s face right now. The sheer volume of Bokuto’s voice is enough to scare him shitless and to render him docile. To indicate he will behave now, Akaashi relaxes his hands and arms and keeps them in place just as Bokuto had located them for him. Another tug at them lifts them up and Akaashi follows the order silently. He just wants to be good for Bokuto, he just wants to please him and help him to calm down. 

The shirt goes up and does not leave the arms, just goes over Akaashi’s head and stays around the upper arms. Fingers stronger than they should be clutch Akaashi’s shoulder and the younger gets turned and shoved against the wall. Bokuto tugs his partner’s arms down and behind his back to use the shirt to tie the arms into place. Akaashi’s blood runs cold as he figures that now there is no way to get out of this safely any longer. Sprawled out fingers place at the base of his nape. Bokuto tenses his fingers, points the tips and digs his dull fingernails into the skin. It stings a bit, itches somewhat. But maybe that is just Akaashi’s anticipation from knowing that this would hurt. 

A yell rips from his throat as Bokuto actually rakes down the nails and leaves bloody streams behind. The cold of the wall helps him maintain his common sense. A knee hits his sacral area, pushes his lower back harder against the wall and Akaashi prays it won’t turn out too bloody. Bokuto’s hands find their place to rest on each shoulder, heels of the hands resting with a slight tilt inwards, indicating the direction where Bokuto was about to scratch next. As the fingers tense against his flesh once more, Akaashi can’t but sigh. His stare is fixed at the ceiling. As desperate as he was for relief, Akaashi still tries to detach from the situation. He is cold and lifeless, like this ceiling. That is what he tells himself to remain distracted. 

His body convulses and the groan gurgles from his throat as Bokuto applies even more pressure this time and the scratches are even deeper this time, allowing blood not only to seep through scraped skin but instead to collect to drops and run down to where the shirt is, just to get soaked up. 

Akaashi leans against the wall, eyes blown wide and panting helplessly. He wants to respond to Bokuto to please him ,to calm him and to show him that he was a good boy, well educated and well behaved. 

Bokuto’s patience is running low however. He doesn’t want to wait until Akaashi catches his breath. Instead he uses his dominant hand to grasp Akaashi’s nape and squeezes. “What do I want to hear from you?!”, he barks and adds pressure to the knee in his lower spine and adds pressure to the insanely strong thick fingers threatening his cervical spine. One wrong move and Bokuto could snap it probably. Not that he ever would, but the fact that he probably could was reason enough to feel hot and cold, boiled yet raw. “Thank you, Bokuto-sama!”, Akaashi gasps out in a hurry. “Thank you! Thank you, Bokuto-sama!”, he repeats, eager to let Bokuto hear it. Eager to make sure Bokuto feels positive. Yet his voice is strained and raspy, he is breathless and Bokuto is not that happy about it. He wants it as a crystal clear scream, he wants it yelled into his face, he wants to be worshipped and adored like a god. Like Akaashi’s god! 

Bokuto grabs him by his shoulders and flips him once again just to slam him back against the wall once more, sure Akaashi faces him again. “Louder!”, he demands. His stare is challenging as he focuses on Akaashi’s features. Eyes blown wide like an owl’s, more pupil than iris visible, and the white already pervades with thin red strings popping from Akaashi’s risen blood pressure and the surpressed tears. 

Akaashi is at a point where he doesn’t care anymore. He is scared and he is intrigued, he likes it as much as he hates it and he needs it to continue. He needs it to escalate before it could calm down once again. 

“I beg you, treat me harder, Bokuto-sama!”, he tries to yell into his face. Still, Akaashi’s voice is weaker than he had hoped it would be, his chest tightened by the shock of being tied, of being hurt so fast, so much out of nowhere. His wish however is obliged. Those massive and threateningly strong hands rise and the grin and freezing stare Bokuto’s features adorn are not a good sign. The heart pumps faster in Akaashi’s chest, it is close to bursting from the cage and an instinct tells him to breathe in while he still can! 

Then it is too late. The nerve wrecking tension and tingling of dread blasts his body and leaves him in a state hypothermic anxiety. The hands clutch around his throat and it is the first time today Akaashi actually struggles against the tshirt binding his arms together to get rid of it. If he doesn’t he fears he will lose his dear life. Bokuto has no means of holding back when he is snapped. He presses and Akaashi can feel something shift in his neck, something that hurts so bad and despite his fear of not gaining any oxygen when chocked, he is not capable of exhaling either. 

Slowly Bokuto raises Akaashi from the floor, first making him follow until he is at the tips of his toes until he actually loses grip from the floor. The rush of control takes over Bokuto’s entire sanity and all he wants to do is destroy destroy destroy! He wants to destroy that doubt, he wants to kill that hatred and that pressure driving him so mad! Akaashi is his outlet and he loves it, he loves to see how the subject of his projection struggles and trembles and cannot even wheeze from helplessness! 

Akaashi’s features have long shifted into panic mode. The younger man’s circulation is about to give in and haziness clouds his vision as the crazy glint in Bokuto’s eyes becomes dull along with the rest of his view. To indicate that it was becoming too much he wiggles a bit and gently kicks against Bokuto’s shin. 

Bokuto doesn’t snap out of it, but he pays attention. His eyes drop for a moment to check if it was a touch on purpose or if Akaashi was just struggling mindlessly. Then his eyes get trapped at Akaashi’s crotch. The pants are bulging and Bokuto laughs hysterically at how pathetic he thinks Akaashi is, to be hard in such a situation. He always laughs, so there is nothing to think of it. It simply keeps surprising Bokuto what a kinky slut Akaashi actually is. 

Yet he is not that kind of a person to ignore the safe gesture. The nudge against his shin. 

Slowly, ever so carefully he lowers Akaashi back down and releases his throat bit by bit, not all at once, giving it time to expand. Also Bokuto never lets go completely. He insists on keeping his fingers around the neck to keep it warm for a bit. It is almost concern that switches place with the ire in his expression as he checks Akaashi’s face for any sign of damage beyond the evident pain and terror. It tends to make Akaashi snort on the inside. Bokuto had such a limited comprehension of things, the Ace would probably not understand if there was something wrong if Akaashi actually tried to convey it by expression. Lucky Bokuto Akaashi does not do these things. He keeps quiet. He likes the pain, he likes the punishment too. 

Slowly coming back to his senses Akaashi decides to slump against the wall and to slide to the ground from there. Bokuto follows every motion until he kneels in front of a destroyed Akaashi. One hand leaves the bruising neck and Akaashi winces at the loss of the warmth there. A black strand is pushed back and out of Akaashi’s face. 

“You okay babe?”, the older wants to know. Akaashi’s smile he offers his partner is crooked, but he displays it genuinely as he confirms with a raspy “Sure.” Bokuto’s hands drop to untangle the shirt behind Akaashi’s back to release the confined arms. As he does not know how to, it is a simple rip that frees Akaashi in the end. 

It helps them. In a twisted, crazy and incomprehensible way it helps them deal with everything. The hatred and pain are gone from Bokuto’s eyes and he is back to being the gentle dork he always is. Akaashi appreciates it, but he is hungry now. So he reaches up and touches Bokuto’s second hand that is still placed on his neck and pries it from there. Cool air hits the skin and Akaashi can’t avoid thinking that Bokuto’s fingers keep him warm better than any scarf. Those fingers are threatening, yet they make him feel so safe. Bokuto is so strong and despite everything, this man makes him feel so safe. 

Akaashi’s intention is to kiss Bokuto. Bokuto knows it. Obviously. They always kiss after this, confirm their love and confirm it has been mutual after all. The kiss they share is tender. Akaashi’s arms are completely wrapped around Bokuto and he clings to him for dear life. It is the one thing he wants Bokuto to know, to feel and to believe. Akaashi needs him. He loves him with all his flaws, all his extreme moods and all his self doubt that makes him go this crazy. It is a suffering to live to such extremes. Akaashi knows. Not by experience, but from seeing the struggles Bokuto goes through daily. He has no control and he does not know how, and all this is fine. Akaashi is right there to catch him when he falls. To be his victim when Bokuto snaps. And in return Bokuto is his good boy when Akaashi feels like control slips. They switch and hurt each other in trust. This is not exactly love, but it is the best they can imagine for their shared insanity. 

Bokuto’s arms are strong beneath Akaashi as he heaves his kouhai up to carry him to bed.


	2. Nature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't glorify violence.  
> I just like it in fiction.  
> Because writing is just that.  
> Fiction.

Once Akaashi sinks into the soft cushioning of their bed, he exhales strongly to endure the sharp burn that comes with the touching of the fabric. The blood is his least problem for they figured a long time ago which cleaner is the best to remove blood stains. Without one they would have so much laundry to throw away, it wouldn’t be worth their sick tendencies. The wall however is an entirely different problem. The red smears that have probably dried down to an ugly brownish crust already are not that easy to wash off. The only way to remove them will be a repainting, Akaashi muses, and searches his head for probable leftover paint in the basement. 

A kiss against his collarbone distracts him, his attention turns to Bokuto. The styled hair slowly dissolves in shape and strands begin to hang out of the flashily parted fluff. It’s pleasant how the lips move over Akaashi’s shoulder area, but the tickling of the hair tips and the obstreperous scent of the gel-hairspray mix goads on Akaashi’s nerves. He cannot enjoy while feeling this horribly subtle yet unspeakably not ignorable sensation. It makes him see red behind his eyelids and he wants to crush something. He wants to crush himself for losing his cool over minor things! 

Bokuto looks up curiously as he feels his wrist tapped at and like a trained dog he follows the lead to where Akaashi gestures him to touch. It is his upper arm. Then there is silence. Hesitation lingers as Bokuto tries to figure out whether he is supposed to hit, scratch, stroke or just hold the spot he was guided to. He sucks in reading what Akaashi wants and while he doesn’t feel guilty for what he had done to Akaashi before, he still feels like it is a bad idea to randomly continue when the mood has already calmed. 

The feet at the end of the bed begin to wiggle impatiently. They are Akaashi’s and Bokuto tries to find some order, some hint in the younger’s eyes but finds nothing, only an ice cold stare. So Bokuto runs his hand up until he meets the sharp bone where the shoulder starts and goes down again, smoothes over the skin until he reaches the elbow and watches Akaashi’s features curiously. The black haired looks so bored and he seems so detached, but the feet still wiggle so there is something up. It agitates Akaashi how dense his boyfriend is sometimes, then again he knows he is not an easy to read person. To invite a further play, Akaashi spreads out his arms as if he is crucified to the bed and offers all over access to his body. As soon as Akaashi’s chest is pushed up seductively, the penny finally drops and Bokuto moans happily. It is meal time and this one is a freebie! So he leans up and moves his palms over the neatly defined chest. 

A kick in his side throws Bokuto off balance and he barks an aggressive “Oi!”, but the stare Akaashi gives him is still so deadly and expectant that he knows he deserves it. If only he was smart enough to figure out what it was. 

Then it’s finally here. The indicating gesture! It’s faint and it’s subtle, but Akaashi breaks eye contact with Bokuto for a second and stares at his own lap, then he looks back at Bokuto. A grin sprawls across the owl’s face, wicked and insidious. His elbows bend, so does his torso with them and he faces Akaashi’s muscular abdomen. The scent rising from him is entrancing, yet Bokuto is not ready to give in so easily. There is a thin and fluffy treasure trail that dips beneath the jogging pants Akaashi wears and it’s where Bokuto’s tongue darts to first. He licks the area right above the elastic, makes the thin hair wet. In the meantime he ever so slowly adjusts his posture above Akaashi, moving from the sideways position he is in over to straddling him gradually. First he traps Akaashi’s legs between his, confining their movement. As he kisses up the stomach, he drags his whole body along. The hips line up with the knees as he is mouthing right below the chest. Eventually his crotch aligns with Akaashi’s as he bows his back upwards to still access the neck. The bite mark on the left shoulder that originated from his earlier game bloomed there in all glory. Fading bruises of all colours painted Akaashi’s body like a splotchy painting. And here he is, most intrigued by the freshest bruise and he leans in to go for it again. Not with teeth but instead with suction. 

Akaashi reaches up. His patience is thin and the gentle treatment doesn’t fit his agitation he still feels. When his hands touch Bokuto’s ribs on each side, Bokuto thinks it’s an act of gentleness and first, a sign for need of closeness, but as Akaashi digs his fingers perfectly in between the narrow spaces in between and presses, not scratches, it’s obvious even to Bokuto that the mood had not settled yet. 

“Game or pain?”, the Ace asks quickly. In response Akaashi lets his anger slide and he wiggles a bit to nestle deeper into the sheets. They stick to his back and as he moves he feels them pull of the wounds and guesses he has just reopened them. 

It’s like Akaashi has to brace himself for what he is going to say. That is alright for Bokuto, neither is actually easy to handle for either of them. It’s the closest Bokuto can get to normal with Akaashi, asking this. Once Akaashi stills form his rearrangement of himself, he finally responds “Pain”. 

Bokuto’s features drop a bit for he has hoped Akaashi would let him rile him up a bit before some fun, but Akaashi’s wish is his command. There is no room to argue. Just as Bokuto raises his arms to inflict the first wound, Akaashi’s hands rise quickly and Bokuto halts in an instant. 

“No more choking anymore today!”, the younger declares hastily. Their eyes meet. Something in Akaashi’s eyes glistens that triggers a cold feeling in Bokuto’s stomach, but he is unable to identify it. They had confirmed prior that Akaashi was alright, but rules are set into stone once they are set beforehand. So Bokuto nods. Although it makes Akaashi’s breath hitch, the older one’s arms rise and palms embrace the tender neck that has these beautiful red bruises forming already. The palms are warm to Akaashi, so much that his eyes fall closed in relaxation. It is not what he wants but it feels good. It is still alright as the fingers slowly tense and slide into a new position, pressing into his throat. Even before the sensation wrecks him he feels his entire body flare up in anticipation. It’s sick how much he loves it, it is sick how much he needs it! It is sick how happily Bokuto obliges! 

Then he groans, pitch higher than his usual one. Unlike before, Bokuto doesn’t rip the hands down, doesn’t grant Akaashi the bliss of fast and shocking attacks. They press deep and he goes slow. Bokuto feels the skin getting caught beneath his nails, he feels it slipping through beneath the tips and he sees the red streaks forming with every tiny bit he proceeds. Akaashi’s eyes are shut, his expression is gorgeous as he tries to endure it with grit teeth and a body tense and convulsed, hands clutched into sheets. 

Before he reaches the collarbones Bokuto lets go and quickly slides his hands beneath the arched back to gain the access before Akaashi returns to enough sanity to relax again. The sweat on Bokuto’s hands burn where Akaashi is already torn from before and the younger takes a few ragged breaths to gather his scattered senses. He has no idea where to focus first to get the best out of this experience. He has no time to detect the correct answer anyway. Bokuto’s nails set in where they had left off at the wall game and he scratches fiercely from there, around the ribcage and to his stomach. 

A quick glance lower tells Bokuto that Akaashi is still hard from it, that this is not killing the mood at all. Not that it is an actual surprise, but it never ceases to fascinate Bokuto that Akaashi was so much into these things. 

Another glance at Akaashi’s features tells him that his junior is torn between the actual pleasure and the pain he is gaining from this. It makes him grin. Akaashi is at his mercy. Akaashi belongs to him! That man is his thing his toy and his possession! 

Driven wild by these thoughts Bokuto darts down his face and slams his mouth into Akaashi’s chest and at a nipple to suck it in and to bite it so hard it makes Akaashi convulse again. The terrified yell ripping from his partner’s throat causes Bokuto to moan in turn. The situation is slipping from Bokuto again, he feels the frenzy return, to rush of power and control. Just because he can, the fingers of his left hand set into Akaashi’s armpit and he rakes the nails down from there while the bite still goes on. 

Akaashi is breathless, Bokuto can feel it. The way the chest hitches and spasms beneath his lips, desperate to get some air sucked in there to stay alive. To stay sane. It begins from here. 

Akaashi starts to touch Bokuto’s shoulder. Although there is not reaction, Bokuto knows full well that Akaashi’s tries to pry him away are genuine at this point. So he intensifies his bite, defends his place and growls like a beast to make a point that this was his prey now. It results in the shaking fingers to dig into his shoulder to hold on for dear life. A few seconds pass in which Bokuto allows the other to dwell in the fear of being dominated without mercy, then he lets go from around the flesh, seals the lips closer around the nipple and gives a tender suckling. It’s wet here, Bokuto had drooled during the bite. He feels it all around his lips how soaked this part is, and how sloppy and disgusting their games are. It is animalistic and disturbed. Their game. 

As he pulls away a tad, Akaashi feels the air cool the stinging area. He jolts and mewls pathetically as Bokuto gives the nipple a lick, then shoves it around with the tip of his tongue. Akaashi trembles already, scared to feel it again. He doesn’t want to egg Bokuto on, but he doesn’t know how to tell the other to stop without doing so. He stares at the ceiling and tries to comprehend the situation, tries to gather his thoughts and tries to understand how this was their way of existing! 

Akaashi’s best choice is to not do a thing indeed. Bokuto gets bored with the nipple quickly. It is the perfect time to take a deep breath. 

His peace is short lived. It is interrupted by a moan exploding from his throat as Bokuto surprises him with slamming their crotches together. The sparks of heat strike his brain like lighting and short circuits him. Akaashi springs up with his entire torso, faces Bokuto for not even a second before he slams his mouth against the other to demand a kiss. His hands cling into Bokuto’s hipbones. Akaashi tries to gain friction desperately as he ruts upwards with his hips actually still pinned down by Bokuto’s. 

To redirect Akaashi back into his place, Bokuto clutches Akaashi’s hair first and jolts the other’s head back and exposes the vulnerable terribly abused neck. Akaashi’s eyes squint shut and he moans, just moans so eagerly to get more. Bokuto admires him, admires the helplessness and the thin aesthetic neck, he admires the adam’s apple sticking out and bouncing as Akaashi swallows nervously. It makes Bokuto’s sanity snap further. He can think of nothing, only to bite and to abuse. His mouth opens and shadows the point of his attention as he feels it engulfed by his mouth. His tongue traces the area quickly to confirm that he was covering the right spot, and then he bites. 

Akaashi’s struggles and faltering cries of suffering do nothing to lessen Bokuto’s desire to continue. What needs to be done needs to be done, so he gives Akaashi some time to learn his lesson before he lets go, presses a hand against Akaashi’s chest and hurled him back into the matrass. 

At this point Akaashi’s vision is spinning. He feels stressed and threatened and not comfortable at all! His orientation is gone and the confusion as to how he can see the ceiling again instead of Bokuto’s face leaves him silent for a bit. 

Just this moment Bokuto clutches Akaashi’s hips and he digs deep into him as he begins to dry hump Akaashi through the pants. “You want it, you slut!”, he growls. “I feel it, you worthless wicked whore!” 

Oh, this does things to Akaashi. Unspeakable things, sick sensations. Pleasure, thrill and fear. His mind blanks out as he responds “Thank you, Bokuto-sama!” 

It’s slamming a grin into the elder’s face and he continues to assault the black haired’s hips with his own. The longer it lasted, the louder Akaashi’s moans got. “Pain or Game?”, Bokuto asks, expecting an immediate and clear reply. 

“Pain!”, Akaashi screams, lost in thought, lost in lust, lost his mind. “Pain, Bokuto-sama, pain!”, he repeats, unsure of why he would do it. Maybe the fear of being too quiet, maybe the fear that Bokuto might doubt the reply, but who was Bokuto to doubt a single word Akaashi says anyway? 

The grip around his hips loosen and the hands move to reach for the neck. Just before he is about to clutch, the back of his head screams ‘No!’ and he moves to grab Akaashi’s shoulders instead. The Ace rises from his secure seat on Akaashi’s hips and gives him space to move, then forces the entire body beneath him to flip on the stomach. He is on Akaashi is fast as he has been off him, crawls up and brushes the hair from his nape up to gain undisturbed access to the area there. Fingerprints are embedded as bruises, a leftover from before. Maybe a leftover from another day. Bokuto had lost track of what he inflicted when a long time ago. To add to the painting he continues to create on Akaashi’s skin, he tilts his head and bites him as if he marked an Omega. 

Again Akaashi screams, hoarse by now, helpless and scared. His hips rut the blanket beneath to mix it all with sensation that are better than this eternal pain. Bokuto lets him do so. As he is done with the bite he leans up again and digs his nails back into the already existing trails in the middle of Akaashi’s back. The other hand go into the hair. The tug and the rip happen simultaneously. Akaashi’s face is lifted from the pillow, face free, neck and upper body arched wickedly and Akaashi screams! He screams from the bottom of his lung, he screams out all the pain and all the stress, everything that hurts his insides. 

Bokuto keeps holding him up, resets his position and presses a knee into Akaashi’s lower spine area to pin him like he had pinned him against the wall. His weight added and added until Akaashi thought his spine would break from hit. Bokuto scratches again, adjusts the grip in Akaashi’s hair and again, Akaashi screams. The younger beneath Bokuto is unleashed. His eyes are wet, his cheeks are red and he howls like a tortured animal. The pressure keeps increasing. The sweat covering the slender frame is cold on him, not from lust, but from fear. He can hear his heart hammering against his chest and it is so loud in his ears.

Suddenly everything stops. Akaashi is dropped and the pressure from his back is gone. He doesn’t know how to recover, all he knows is that he is helpless and weak. Bokuto can do what he wants. He does it all the time, but now Akaashi could do nothing to fight back. 

It is faint that Akaashi feels a hand on his right shoulder and it’s tugged to turn the body once again. He is entirely slack by now and his vision is blurred from tears. The stare Bokuto gives the tired man is hardly recognisable to Akaashi, it’s vague and probably still fulfilled with the obsession to inflict pain. For a short moment Akaashi dares to consider himself a victim of domestic violence, but then he huffs at that, too weak to laugh at himself. 

A shadow rises above him and Akaashi flinches, scared of more pain to come. And it comes. His head is snapped to the side as Bokuto delivers a harsh blow against Akaashi’s cheek, hitting him with all his might. It’s a good thing Bokuto had used his flat palm, not the fist, or Akaashi would lack a tooth now. One or maybe even two. Then the hand in his hair is back, clutching and ripping. It’s the point where Akaashi realises it becomes too much! He tries to move his leg but finds he can’t do so in the position they are in, so he is quick to speak. 

“Ca-“ He interrupts himself with a cough as he feels himself choke on his own breath. The grip in his hair is firm, but Bokuto allows him time. “Ca…n’t reach…”, he gasps. 

The bigger body shifts immediately and as the grip in his hair loosens, a strong arm finds its way around Akaashi’s torso. There is no hesitation in Akaashi as he leans up and allows Bokuto to hug him warmly. It is only in Bokuto’s secure and grounded calm embrace that Akaashi realises that he is trembling like a traumatised child. His arms close around Bokuto. There are so many feelings in him. 

They stay like this for a minute. Maybe two. Maybe more. Maybe even less. It feels like time has no relevance in their existences anymore. All that matters is that Akaashi is able to let the raging storm of mixed emotions settle in his heart. Until it’s done Bokuto is there to be the pillar of his strength. 

Whatever time it takes, it is not defined by earthly means, but eventually Akaashi finds back to who he is. It’s a dam that breaks loose at this point. Tears flow freely as the tension falls off his frame. It is a cleanse where the fear and pain leave him and it gets replaced by nothing but Bokuto’s tender and understanding warmth. Akaashi is a quiet weeper. He huffs here and there but surpresses most sounds by holding his breath and releasing it in strained puffs. That’s a fact Bokuto doesn’t like, he wants Akaashi to be himself and not restrain a single thing about him, but the fact that Akaashi had learned to cry with Bokuto is already considered a good start. 

When Bokuto feels the tension cease a bit and slackness taking over Akaashi, the elder decides to lay his partner down carefully. Nothing in the world could ever tear Bokuto away from Akaashi now. He wraps his arms around Akaashi protectively and pulls him close. 

The way the breath and tears are wet against Bokuto’s shoulder into which he had cried, disgust Akaashi and he feels filthy and small. However Bokuto would never let him hide from it. They have their weird moments, they have their sick things going on. They have it all under the promise that there is no shame. 

“Love you, ‘kaashi”, Bokuto mumbles and kisses Akaashi’s forehead softly, then the top of his fluffy head. “Come or rest?”, he continues quietly. Akaashi sighs deeply in Bokuto’s arms. “Rest”, he whispers. “Thanks Kou…” 

Finally, finally the horribly spent and to his limits exhausted Akaashi looks up at Bokuto, cheeks still wet. It’s a low moment for him. Bokuto has plain sight of all the wounds, of all the flaws covering his body now. Akaashi needs a shower later on. And mind blowing makeup to remove the traces of today’s activities. But that can wait. Right now he has to enjoy the hug of the world’s best hugger. Butterflies form in his chest and a big satisfied grin forms on Akaashi’s face that he hides in the crook of Bokuto’s neck. He is so endlessly happy that he has found his mate. Even if it is just for high school time. In this time they lick each other’s crazy wounds. Nothing can shut up their inner demons better than what they have together.

“I can feel you smile”, Bokuto announces happily. To that Akaashi just answers by leaning in closer and he bites Bokuto’s shoulder playfully. He feels caught, but it is not a bad thing with Bokuto. Not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nudge at Bokuto's leg means stop.  
> In case Akaashi is unable to reach there, he says so. "Can't reach" is something like a safeword. 
> 
> Bokuto doesn't want to seriously harm Akaashi, so he's especially attentive for these established things.


	3. Aftercare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aftercare is important too.  
> That's something I like irl too.

Akaashi hasn’t noticed he has fallen asleep, but as he wakes up he feels even more destroyed than before the nap. As he stirs and feels no response from the arms around him, he guesses that Bokuto has drifted off into slumber as well. Honestly, Akaashi has seen Bokuto’s sleeping face countless times already, and yet here he is, shifting ever so carefully, just to catch a quick glimpse. The movements hurt Akaashi’s back and shoulders, arms and neck, lower back and even the untouched legs. On his back he feels the strain of dried welts pulling as he tries to turn, putting strain on the wounds. His neck however is an entirely different story. It feels like someone still clutches it, every move hurts and he fears that something got severely squished in there. Before he checks on Bokuto he lifts his hand to touch his own neck first. Everything feels fine on the outside, despite the increased sensitivity. 

As he pulls his fingers away from there Akaashi checks on the tips, doesn’t know what he is looking for right now but can’t help but wonder what he would have done if he had caught on blood after the touch. Well, presumably if his neck was bleeding, he probably wouldn’t be able to wake up so easily. Or at all. Bokuto would have treated him if Akaashi were injured, right? 

Eventually Akaashi tilts his head up slightly. The rush of embarrassment hunts down his spine as he catches on Bokuto watching him curiously. So the owl was awake the whole time, and Akaashi was careless enough to put his guard down and check on himself just like that. Bokuto however doesn’t mind. He is silent for once and smiles as Akaashi seems to lose his nerve over being watched. His eyelids slide shut for a moment, allowing Bokuto to dwell a little bit in the sensation of their unity. 

When he reopens his eyes, Akaashi is back to his usual expression, more blank than anything, while Bokuto on the other hand is still so glad he has his beloved Akaashi right here. So he reaches out for the other’s hand that had just touched the neck and places his fingers around the wrist loosely. “You okay, babe?”, he whispers. Akaashi doesn’t fight the touch. Not even when Bokuto tugs at the wrist to bring it to his mouth where he nuzzles into the heel of Akaashi’s palm to kiss it. Instinctively Akaashi’s fingers straighten to allow Bokuto further access and the kisses move further up the pal, to the middle and to the fingers. Actually Akaashi expected Bokuto to stick out his tongue to lick between his fingers too, to seduce him and to rile him up, but to his surprise Bokuto does no such thing. 

“Do you feel guilty?”, Akaashi asks, pushing Bokuto’s question aside for now. This is the only explanation Akaashi can come up with for Bokuto’s behaviour. To his surprise Bokuto shakes his head, kisses back down and kisses the wrist again before letting go. “You asked me to, why should I?” With that it’s settled for them. Akaashi wonders why he even wasted a thought on Bokuto’s feelings when his boyfriend is such a shallow person. Then again it makes Akaashi feel guilty for thinking about Bokuto like that. Bokuto’s personality is complex and he is straight forward, and on top of it all, Bokuto has a point in what he says. He has followed Akaashi’s requests, so why should Bokuto feel guilty? 

Somewhat confused and disoriented Akaashi leans up and he feels Bokuto’s attentive stare supervise Akaashi’s condition. He knows Bokuto would catch him if he would be dizzy, Bokuto is always there to catch him when he falls. When he falls low, when he stoops low, when he is at his lowest, Bokuto is always there for him. For a moment he ponders if he should randomly drop back just to see if Bokuto would reach out and catch him. Quickly shoving the thoughts of unnecessary testing his partner aside, Akaashi decides to slide away from Bokuto to swing his legs out of bed. 

Bokuto in turn lets him and leans up as well, covers sliding down to his hips. Scent of sweat lingers and it’s Akaashi who scrunches up his nose at that. Bokuto had never bothered to undress to begin with and Akaashi still wears his joggers. 

“The choking.” Bokuto’s attention perks up as Akaashi’s voice shatters the peaceful silence. “I appreciate it, but I want to set my limit to you lifting me to the tip of my toes and not further. Losing my ground was too much.” 

Bokuto wiggles out from beneath the covers and snuggles up from behind to kiss Akaashi’s nape. Then he inspects the bruises. They are dark, darker that what he usually leaves behind and he can only guess the pain Akaashi must feel from it. “Want to punish me for it?”, the senior asks curiously, voice as common as if he says ‘Good morning’. Akaashi shakes his head. “No, that was not a rule when you did it, so it was not wrong.” Again Akaashi reaches up to touch his neck. “I don’t know how to treat this. I think this will only heal over time.” He sighs and Bokuto pouts in turn and crawls forward to shove his face into Akaashi’s field of vision. “You sure you’re okay?”, he insists. At that Akaashi can’t surpress an amused huff and shoves his partner’s head away to avoid getting caught grinning. “Fine enough at least”, he calms Bokuto. “Wash me?” 

“Mmmh. Want me to carry you?” Bokuto sits up beside Akaashi and places a warm palm on his back. He feels the crusts of scratches and he feels how much deeper they are compared to the usual games. These actually drew blood. To comfort Akaashi, Bokuto strokes up and down a little bit, soothes over the dried wounds and feels where the crust is ripped from Akaashi’s casual movements. However Akaashi pries himself away from Bokuto first and gets up. A second later his pants are dropped and Bokuto admires the entire frame. He feels his crotch tingle at the clear view of Akaashi’s exposure before him. In his fantasy, Akaashi bends down now, drops on his knees and spreads his legs for Bokuto to see it all. The balls dangling there, the cock pointing downwards and the hole between those firm cheeks. But Akaashi doesn’t do it. Akaashi doesn’t jump in on Bokuto’s needs, he just wants a peaceful evening and some aftercare. So although Bokuto’s lust is stirring at his fantasy he doesn’t push it and gets up instead to follow Akaashi. He is close behind to make sure he is there in case Akaashi loses balance. His partner’s walk is uneven and a bit insecure. The impact of their play is evident on Akaashi’s entire posture. 

Once in the bathroom, Akaashi slides into the tub and plugs it shut. Only then he turns on the water. Bokuto sees him flinch as it splashes out the faucet, cold from not being used before. “Throw your clothes into the laundry, you reek like you haven’t washed in years.” At Akaashi’s words Bokuto hoots amused. He knows his partner’s words are harsh but they are meant to be friendly after all. So Bokuto pulls off his shirt casually and holds it in his hand, stares at it for a bit and then smirks. “’kaashi~”, he sings, voice rich with obvious intent. But Akaashi waves it off instantly. “After the bath. I am not mentally ready yet…” 

Bokuto pouts again but places his shirt on the counter for later, then he drops his pants and removes his underwear. Unlike the pants, his underwear goes to the counter as well. Last are his socks, they join the pants on the floor. Akaashi turns his head to see it and huffs. “Fold them you slob. They’ll wrinkle.” 

“They’re gonna get washed anyway, who cares?”, Bokuto defends himself instantly. But Akaashi’s firm “I do” leave no room for discussion, so he follows the instruction annoyed. He does it sloppily though. Bokuto has no idea about folding clothes, he is not the neat freak that Akaashi is and he doesn’t care for folding techniques. The displeasure on Akaashi’s face is evident, but this is the best he can expect from the Ace. When Bokuto drops the folded pants back on the floor, Akaashi groans and prefers to look the other way after all. He can’t believe he dates this pig. 

The water begins to get too hot around Akaashi’s feet and ass and he adjusts the temperature a bit until it’s lukewarm. Then Bokuto’s strong arms already shove into Akaashi’s field of vision and the showerhead is taken up. The faucet stops, the showerhead splashes instead, the water pressure gets adjusted and Bokuto’s hand goes beneath to check on temperature and pressure equally. When he thinks the stream is soft enough and the temperature is steadily lukewarm, he moves over and behind Akaashi. “Deep breath, babe”, he mumbles. Akaashi’s eyes close and he inhales, bracing himself for the burn that was to come. Despite the pressure being low, it still feels like the droplets stab him from behind. It’s a tiny jolt, but Bokuto reaches up to cover the shower head, lets the water run against his palm and the stream running down right onto Akaashi’s back is not even less intense than before. He stays like that for a bit until Akaashi is used to the water on his wounded back. 

Slowly but surely Akaashi’s position changes from a relatively open one to drawn in legs and arms around them. His eyes are low, face hidden between his chest and the pulled in legs. He watches himself slowly getting swallowed by the rising water level, sees his nakedness and feels the surface cradle around his ankles as it rises around his balls and dick. In this moment Akaashi feels vulnerable and low, worthless and tiny. He is aware Bokuto would never let him think that way would he know what is going on in Akaashi’s mind, but Bokuto doesn’t. So there is no need to ask for permission. 

To soothe Akaashi’s welled up emotions Bokuto is extra careful. He can’t read Akaashi’s mind, but Bokuto knows from experience what it feels like to have the massive downs that cause his melodramatic shows once in a while. The pain from feeling overwhelmed by the dark embrace of failure and disappointment. When weakness is louder than the flashy success. He’s not good with words and he is not good with empathy, so he doesn’t know what to say to drag Akaashi out of this, but he thinks it’s best to try and gently heave him out of that state by gestures. So he lowers the showerhead for a bit and kisses Akaashi’s nape again. It’s perfectly exposed to him right now that Akaashi sits like this, curled in, closed in and isolated. “Love you, ‘kaashi”, Bokuto repeats. Then his palm smooths over the back and carefully wipes away loosening crust of wounds. There’s a mild tremble in Akaashi’s body. Then he tenses. “Love you, ‘kaashi”, he insists again and lets his run over the entire back again. 

Akaashi’s mind is drifting off. He wonders, how can Bokuto even love him. Would Bokuto really hurt him that much if he really loves him? Those wounds are his boyfriend’s doing an Akaashi wonders what he has ever done to deserve it. He considers it a punishment for being who he is, tells himself he deserves it and they are marks of his hatred for the world, not a mutual agreement they have going on. Again, those painful words. Those lies, those cheap and empty claims of a mindless bastard. “Love you, ‘kaashi”. Over and over always coming with these sweet and loving motions, the stroking and the soothing. Akaashi doesn’t want to believe a word. He feels little and meaningless. Then there is another kiss pressed against his nape and Akaashi exhales. He is an asshole. Of course Bokuto is genuine in what he does. Bokuto is a man who cannot lie. He is too straight forward and too inconsiderate to make up lies just to make someone feel better. It’s his honesty that Akaashi loves, so finally he opens his arm a bit to loosen his legs up and his posture unfolds like a flower in early stage of bloom. Not entirely opening but allowing a glimpse inside. 

Akaashi’s head drops back and he looks upwards at Bokuto who stares down on him. As his eyes are met, Bokuto’s entire expression beams up and he flashes him an enthusiastic smirk. At that Akaashi cannot surpress the grin that forms, doesn’t really want to hide it anyway and he whispers, “Love you, Kou.” 

If he weren’t so aware it would hurt Akaashi even more, Bokuto would hug the soul out of Akaashi’s body, but he doesn’t want to do that. He wants his beloved ‘kaashi to be alive for so much longer. So instead he raises the shower head again and lets the water fall over the skin like a silky curtain. From time to time his free hand breaks the flow as he wipes along the skin with his bare palm to carefully soak and loosen the crusts. They needed ointment later on and if it was up to Bokuto, he’d patch up the entire back, but Akaashi always refuses. He wants the others to spot the marks. Not for attention, but because he thinks it’s much more pitiful to be wrapped in bandages than to show that he has a fulfilled intimate life with very violent traits mixed in. 

Nobody knows it’s them dating, but nobody asks either. Everyone has their assumptions. That’s enough. 

Half an hour has passed since they started the cleanup and the sun sets by now. The tub is only halfway full. It’s enough, they are so big that the water level rises to the top anyway when they are both inside. And both inside they are. Bokuto holds up Akaashi’s chin with firm fingers and the kiss they share is deep and long, already messy and thoughtless. It feels so good to be together, it feels perfect for each of them. Nothing about it is urgent, but Bokuto is hard. Kissing gets him hard. His mouth is sensitive and Akaashi knows it, but he doesn’t comply to the physical reaction. They share a kiss for love, not for lust right now, so Bokuto’s impatient body has to wait. But Bokuto feels riled up already from this little bit of action. Once Akaashi breaks the kiss, Bokuto keeps poking him with his nose and whines like a child. He wants the attention and he wants the love, and he wants much more. Akaashi is aware what it is exactly what his partner wants, but denies him nevertheless. “Later, promise”, he staves Bokuto off and meets him with a quick peck on the lips. 

Despite the disappointment Bokuto feels, he is alright with it. Akaashi is in a vulnerable state right now, oddly more than usually. That in turn results in deeper care for Akaashi from Bokuto’s side. He reaches over for the sports shower gel that relaxes the muscles, but then wonders if this is really a good idea as he holds it in his hands. Probably not, he muses and places it back. Akaashi watches him all the while, wondering what was going on in Bokuto’s mind. As he sees him put the bottle back into the corner of the tub he sighs in relief. Soap would most likely burn too much right now. But the other’s hand swipes over for the shampoo. To avoid any misunderstandings, Akaashi’s hand touches Bokuto’s arm gently and he shakes his head no. “When we need the second one, then you can wash my hair.” 

“So I have official permission?” The elder gives Akaashi a hopeful stare and Akaashi chuckles to himself for how adorable this guy is. “You already know, don’t act so happy”, the black haired scolds and gives Bokuto a nudge. “Come.” But Bokuto stops him, places his palm on Akaashi’s collarbone from behind and gently forces him back into the water, then he lifts himself and straddles Akaashi from above. “In a bit.” 

The confusion and scepticism is written all over Akaashi’s face. “No. No sex in the bathtub anymore, we discussed tha-“ A finger on his lips silences Akaashi. Bokuto grins down on him, otherwise he does not seem like he hides any ulterior motives. So they don’t use soap, the washing was done, the cuddling was done, what else could Bokuto wait for when sex was waiting in the next room? 

To his surprise, the warm, puckered fingers return to his chest. They roam all around. The scratches around the ribs get pampered a bit as the rips trace along them, gently scraping off flakes of loose crust. He doesn’t tug, instead he rubs over it repeatedly and gently pries it off to smoothen it all out. Under the water and soaked up the flakes are yellowish, just like the edges of his wounds, and seriously it disgusts Akaashi so much. It reminds him of purulence. That’s nothing he wants Bokuto to touch. His common sense interferes and calms Akaashi’s nerves by reminding him that it simply looked like it and that the wounds are too fresh to be discharging pus. It’s one of these moments again when Akaashi thinks that the human body is in fact an entirely despicable creation with all its flaws and ugly functions. 

Eventually the hands slide back up, all motions kept symmetrical. Bokuto is not grossed out by the body below him. To Bokuto nothing of what they do is ugly or wrong, morally objectionable or corrupt. Usually it isn’t to Akaashi either, just sometimes when life hits him really bad he tends to fall into these thinking patterns. 

His mental loss in shapeless rooms of his mind make him forget. The white of the bathroom mixes together and he forgets how to see shapes as he drifts off, taken over by warm water, the feeling of floating and of being cared for. Only when Bokuto strokes over the chest, it makes him jolt and the relaxation is gone. It stings where he is touched. His stare downwards brings the attention to the prior bite. Although Akaashi can feel Bokuto’s stare, he doesn’t look up to meet it, instead he inspects his nipple further. Around the areola bite marks shine in a bright red with purple dots where Bokuto’s teeth are the most pointy. “You’ve drawn blood before”, Akaashi states unfazed. He reaches up to touch the wound. Bokuto shrugs. “You nipple is more swollen than the other.” 

When has it become so normal? That they talk about wounds they inflict on each other with no worry or shame. Akaashi keeps looking at it and circles it. “It’s more sensitive too”, he adds as he pokes the nipple itself. “Ask me later if it’s okay to touch, right now I can’t really estimate how it will feel when I’m aroused.” 

“You like all the pain when you’re aroused”, Bokuto retorts snarkily. It earns him a venomous stare from Akaashi, but both know Bokuto will ask when the time is due. 

Bokuto’s hand shoos away Akaashi’s so he has enough space to place his palm there, thumb and forefinger constrain the area, cornering it in between. It’s nothing Akaashi fights, Bokuto is just curious about it. Then the thumb moves in to follow the bite marks. It hurts, yet not too bad. It’s good enough that Akaashi maintains his straight face about it. Would Bokuto squeeze now, it wouldn’t be so easy to do so. Thankfully Bokuto doesn’t. He follows the line of teeth a bit, then tilts his entire hand and traces the circle several times with his index finger. It’s a bit weird, but Akaashi loves the attention Bokuto gives his wounds. Screw when it has become normal, as long as it is normal with them. No matter how harsh they treat each other, in the end they love it. 

By the time Akaashi is lifted from the water, the sun behind the curtains has fallen. Bokuto is so strong. Bokuto is a monster, a threat and a beast. And he treats Akaashi so well like nobody else could. 

Akaashi’s body sinks back into the sheets, back first, naked and soaked, goosebumps all over his skin. He admires Bokuto’s naked frame as it walks to a drawer where they keep their home remedy kit. It’s the ointment for open wounds that Bokuto holds up to show Akaashi what is going to happen next before they move on to the real fun. A content sigh is emitted, Akaashi feels emotional bliss of being cared for. His arms sprawl out just like before, stretched to the sides for all the access Bokuto needs. Then he feels the cold strings of ointment meet his skin. Bokuto never puts it in his hands first, he always applies it directly to spread it from there. And that’s okay too, it’s a cute quirk. It’s a way Akaashi would never do it, so he appreciates the difference between them. 

As he feels Bokuto is done with splattering thick streaks across his body, the amazing fingers come into play and Akaashi bites his lip and simply moans. As if he’s receiving a massage, the fingers dig into his skin carefully, skilled and considerate to never let Akaashi feel any fingernails in the process. It’s like a protective layer engulfs him with each stroke, the palms slide over him so easily. Akaashi tilts his head back, exposes his abused throat and moans again. Partially to rile Bokuto up, partially because Akaashi lost his mind. He wants to be vocal, he wants to be heard. He wants to be recognised and seen, yet only so by Bokuto. He belongs to him and he always wants to be the only one. The palms move on from the ribs and up to the shoulders where further streaks are located and the thumbs work miracles as they rub the ointment in and hit the knots right there, it is so intense Akaashi arches his chest off the bed and presents himself. He wants to be devoured, he wants to be loved and consumed right now. Everything in his body language simply screams a mindless “Take me, take me now!”, but Bokuto ignores it expertly. Instead his fingers glide up the neck, then his massive frame leans down to kiss it tenderly. “Move over, your back is next.” 

He’s hot right now. His skin feels cold, yet his heart is burning up. He’s confident Bokuto wants it too, but for Bokuto the care comes first. So Akaashi rolls over and feels the ointment get spread along the streaks. As the massage continues, so do Akaashi’s moans. For the entire length of the massage he gasps and moans. Only for Bokuto’s ears.


	4. Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favourite one so far

Akaashi sits upright on the bed. His skin doesn’t strain as it usually does after a hot bath. The ointment has moisturised his body too and he is surprised by how comfortable it feels. Bokuto is right next to him, arm around him. The entire emotions have discharged and Akaashi feels spent and good. The overflowing energy is knocked from his entire system. Only with his battery status this low he is capable of feeling the utter truth. His desires and his needs. His honest, unravelled love for Bokuto.

Bokuto on the other hand is still very charged. He is not easy to drain and even if he is on the verge of his energy, it doesn’t matter to him, his love for Akaashi is unfiltered either way. Admittedly for Bokuto it feels good to be sucked dry of his life, to experience thorough exhaustion and the comfortable tingle of burning muscles after mindless strain. Pitifully his workout’s schedule does not offer the capacity of completely depleting Bokuto anymore, he is too fit for that by now. Since he pushed his limits over and over, his limits got pushed away, that is to the point where Bokuto doesn’t feel done anymore. Only once in a while when sex with Akaashi is mindblowing and lasts for at least two hours Bokuto remembers what limits truly are. And long sex with Akaashi has nice side effects too. It makes him learn about new positions, kinks and techniques every time the fuck lasts long. 

Honestly, Akaashi is a bit scared of having sex now. He senses just how riled up Bokuto is and wonders if his weary body will hold out another round of ruthless rutting. Still he can’t go back on his promise that easily either, Bokuto wouldn’t forgive that without a fuss. So he leans over, cuddles into the half hug Bokuto gives him and snuggles into the arm that’s already around him. His face sinks into Bokuto’s chest. It feels warm and safe here. To his surprise he can hear the heart beat beneath the thick layer of muscle. It’s a bit erratic, so Bokuto is still excited. It’s rare for the older to not let this on for this time Bokuto is so calm and peaceful just holding him and watching over Akaashi like a duty dog. So Bokuto actually is able to control his urges, Akaashi muses to himself. He just doesn’t like to do it. 

The younger looks up with his usually blank expression, but the glistening in his eyes betray his mimic. There is admiration shining in them. Admiration for Bokuto, for the strength, for the size and the consideration. It is the first time he wonders if Bokuto has held back before. When Akaashi radiates such exhaustion that he can’t keep going, he wonders if Bokuto’s heart has ever hammered similarly against his chest, and if Bokuto has withheld equal to today. 

It’s subconscious as Akaashi’s flat palm traces Bokuto’s chest to pet him rewardingly. Bokuto meets his stare unwaveringly, features calm and undemanding. Not loving either, some slight tension still evident, but there’s no thunderstorm conveyed through his expression. Slowly Akaashi leans up and kisses him. He is Bokuto’s good boy after all. And he admires him. He adores him and worships him. Their lips seal, slow and smooth. Bokuto’s are somewhat chipped against Akaashi’s tender lips. Bokuto’s are rough compared to how plush Akaashi’s thin, yet oddly soft feel. It’s like even Bokuto’s lips are trained to be hard and muscly. So ridiculous, Akaashi thinks and smiles against them. 

The smile is triggering bubbling sunlight in Bokuto’s chest. A feeling he welcomes eagerly. Akaashi worships him and it gives Bokuto the best feeling he can imagine. Akaashi is the fundament of his divine presence. Ever so carefully his hand slips into the raven black hair and feels it cool and silky as it glides in between his fingers. It’s not like a raven’s feather, Bokuto muses but cannot draw a proper comparison. If Akaashi new how deep Bokuto’s thoughts can go sometimes, he’d suggest to set his hair equal with black ink. It’s flowy and wild despite Akaashi’s constant tries to tame it into shape. Every morning he wakes up and his silhouette seems like a new randomly fallen ink splotch every day. 

The fingers tighten in the strands and Akaashi sighs against Bokuto’s lips. Like a well trained pet he opens up to Bokuto and lets him do whatever his man pleases. The tongue does not thrust in immediately. Akaashi feels it dance along his lips. It’s the perfect pace for him after today’s events. Again it dawns on him that Bokuto is considerate. So rare, yet so pleasant too. It makes Akaashi realise that he must be more to the Ace than just the fuckslut projection of Bokuto’s demons that needs to be abused. He is Bokuto’s everything. The determination of getting Bokuto hooked on him for all eternity is rooted deeply in his sinister ink heart. He will wrap his limbs around him and leech onto Bokuto, he will get him so addicted Bokuto will never ever be able to breathe without him. 

Then the tongue slides in. Gently. It tickles the insides of the lips, doesn’t reach Akaashi’s gums yet. The eyes of both have fallen closed, Bokuto’s progress is firm, yet decelerated. It’s not Akaashi’s place to push Bokuto, it’s not his place to take initiative either. This was for Bokuto alone, to claim and claim his possession over and over, each time differently. Rough, soft another time, violently or maybe subtly. 

“Ah-“ Akaashi gasps surprised and wants to break the seal, but Bokuto keeps his grip firm and tugs harsher, makes Akaashi’s scalp shift by keeping him in place. His other hand had surprised Akaashi by tweaking a nipple, the one without the bite mark. It had come out of nowhere so it had been a rush of mixed emotions and sensations for Akaashi. Surprise and lust, somehow still gentle discomfort from his oversensitivity after the whole evening. The tongue invades him deeper now, taking over territory. But the hand around his chest is gone. Akaashi can’t turn his head, he can’t see where Bokuto hovers his massive prank, cannot see where the next assault will be. The cock, he guesses, maybe his legs. Somewhere where Bokuto knows that Akaashi is sensitive, he’s confident, and assuming Bokuto’s impatience, Akaashi opts to estimate Bokuto will go for the lower half now. 

The guess is wrong as it can be. Akaashi’s entire torso twitches as a tender touch of tickling fingertips hit his nape. They brush softly and move the thinnest hairs right at the base of his hairline, sending thrilling shivers down his spine. It’s like his batteries recharge slowly from the touches, he feels the energy return, sexual desire engulf his frame as Bokuto keeps on teasing. The tongue licks his palate now. A spot where Akaashi is ticklish and where he hates to be touched during a kiss. It makes him go crazy because he cannot laugh into a kiss, doesn’t know how to, but he can’t properly surpress the discomfort either. It’s like sweet suffering, not knowing what to do. It causes tension and confusion, especially since Bokuto lets it mix with these lovable sensations coming from his neck. 

A tender scratch sets another quiet moan off. His limbs begin to tingle. The grip in Akaashi’s hair loosens and he feels the fingers rub through the scalp carefully, giving the skin there a few massaging motions. Then the hand moves on, now one hand on either side of Akaashi’s neck. Their eyes meet and the stare is intense. Akaashi has to swallow. Will he get choked again?

Suddenly his eyes roll back and fall half shut, his lips part and his head lolls back, overwhelmed by the sensation. Bokuto does nothing but gently caress him with nothing but the fingertips. So little is enough to enlighten fireworks of cool tingling and bliss. Akaashi loves it and it spreads down his chest, up his ears, into the arms, it tingles everywhere. His nipples stiffen and his member stirs. Bokuto does nothing but watch the show. He watches Akaashi’s features, watches him melt and fade. This is his doing. He plays him like a puppet. Akaashi is his for all eternity. 

The elder one shifts a bit and adjusts himself. Akaashi is curious at that and opens his eyes again, tilts his head up to see, and barely recognises the difference before suddenly Bokuto’s hair is tickling his side. Akaashi’s muscles tense as Bokuto’s breath is right by his ear and another gentle gasp escapes him as Bokuto blows against the shell playfully. The chapped lips sink below his ear, Bokuto kisses the hairless spot attentively. He moves the lips along so slowly, drags them over as he opens and closes his mouth in smooching motions. Despite being still for Bokuto and letting him do his thing, Akaashi feels nothing like the solid frame that he is. Rather he feels like liquid under Bokuto’s heartbreakingly slow assaults. 

Another blow into his ear distracts him, then he tenses up and the hands snap high to cling to Bokuto’s shoulders as the wet tongue invades the shall and Bokuto delivers a playful moan right into his hearing channel. It cuts Akaashi’s breath short instantly and the triumphant chuckle following the deed leaves Akaashi’s eyes blown wide in shock. By now the younger is wide awake and he wants to do much more! And then it’s too late for his sanity, for Bokuto begins to talk. 

“You’re my horny little whore, ‘kaashi”, he sings dominantly. At this point Akaashi wants to slam his head against the headboard or something, or he won’t keep his sanity at all. It’s cheating what Bokuto does. He can’t mix this tenderness with their sick game! 

Yet Bokuto can. It’s not occurring to him that it’s considered cheating either. Instead he wraps an arm around Akaashi to secure him close. “Good boys answer when they’re spoken to”, he continues playfully. Akaashi feels trapped, he knows there is no escape, he knows he doesn’t bloody want to escape! “…yes, Bokuto-sama”, Akaashi whispers breathlessly. The arm around Akaashi’s torso tightens and Bokuto’s hand finds the uninjured nipple again to poke and tweak it a bit. It makes Akaashi’s confined chest hitch again, Bokuto watches patiently. Then he tugs. Hard. 

“Yes what?” The growling sends a wicked grin onto Akaashi’s lips, he feels too good and his mind is slipping. The absence of his control, the loss of his pride, it makes him go hysterical inside! This is what Bokuto does to him, he renders him to a simple bitch. “Yes, I am your dirty little whore, Bokuto-sama”, he replies with a shaking voice. A rewarding nuzzle appears at his ear and Bokuto is back to kiss and lick it once again. “My dirty little whore, so hard for me”, he mutters in return to Akaashi’s proper statement. Akaashi shivers at that. Then he shivers once again, this time not from thrill but from the loss of Bokuto’s warmth. The stronger man withdraws and Akaashi mewls displeased in turn. Apparently Bokuto is looking for something, he looks back and forth, expression curious and delighted as if he was at the gym. So natural, yet so handsome and naked. “What is it?”, Akaashi wants to know, breaking the scene for a moment. He wants to ask if Bokuto lost his common sense, but swallows the comment. Instead he reaches out and touches Bokuto’s palm that rests on the matrass. For a moment Bokuto looks down, seemingly surprised by the touch, then his eyes follow up the arm and he flashes Akaashi a smile. “I look for a thing to blindfold you!”, he reveals so blunt it makes Akaashi snort. Only Bokuto could be this recklessly open about what he wants to do. But Akaashi loves it, so he gets up to take the initiative here. 

Bokuto uses the time to drag a little pile closer to the bed. Akaashi turns as he sees his partner roam a bit and raises his eyebrows sceptically. “Do I even want to know?”, he asks awkwardly, voice strained and doubtful. The grin his partner offers him is brighter than their future. “Sure, you’ll find out in a bit!” Akaashi feels his facial expression slip to a mix of terror and reluctance. It must be so evident that Bokuto begins to laugh at him, so he quickly returns to his usual blankness. That’s exactly why he hates speaking through expressions. People always laugh at him. So he turns instead and picks up a necktie. But that’s not really enough to cover his eyes, he thinks and moves on. For a moment he also wonders if he should take some of Bokuto’s knee high sports socks but mentally scrunches up his nose at the mere thought of having those around his face. 

“You cool with that?”, he hears a voice behind him and looks over his shoulder. “Pack that away, I ain’t willing to have your bandages around me. I thought you wanted to buy a scarf just for that! Why didn’t you?” Akaashi avoids looking at Bokuto, he doesn’t want to quarrel, but he’s also not ready for the answer either. It comes nevertheless, stating Bokuto simply keeps forgetting, and it makes Akaashi grin because he has known it before it was said out loud. Eventually he hears rustling and Akaashi turns again. Bokuto has stripped the cover off his pillow and holds it up. “Come back, I use this.” No complaints about that, that was quick thinking, he thought and stepped back. Since Bokuto is sitting, Akaashi towers over the other as he stands before him. Bokuto meets his gaze and it doesn’t feel like Akaashi is the one looking down at all. Bokuto’s eyes shine with such demand and it is so genuine that Akaashi sinks on his knees voluntarily. 

As his chin rises, Bokuto uses one hand to cup it gently, thumbing over Akaashi’s cheek. It really is Bokuto now who stares down at him. It’s so relaxing. It’s so smooth how they enter the scene again, it feels natural and soothing. His eyes fall closed. “Please take my sight from me, Bokuto-sama”, he whispers. The caressing of his cheek goes on just a little longer. Enough to make Akaashi dwell in it as he already keeps his eyes closed for Bokuto, indicating what a good boy he is. It’s pleasing to both of them. Bokuto relies on Akaashi’s willingness, brutal or not. This time it’s not brutal at all. 

The lengthwise folded fabric goes above the eyes. Akaashi can feel the slight shifting of the body before him, he can feel the thighs to each side of his head move a bit, feels one touching his cheek. Apparently Akaashi doesn’t keep his head steady enough for the knot to be tied easily, so the thighs close around him, trap him and keep him still. Then the sharp tug encloses the looped cover around his head and he is blinded securely. The thighs open again and Akaashi feels himself panting. He wants to get up and join Bokuto back on the bad to lie down and sprawl out, be his doll, but hands grasp his shoulders and keep him where he belongs to. Down. Low. 

“So good for me, Akaashi”, he mumbles. The breath sucked into Akaashi’s nose is hitched and unsteady. He nods, feels speechless. Another shift on Bokuto’s frame makes him flinch a bit. He’s nervous. “You’re going to be even better for me, right Akaashi?”, he presses further. Again the younger nods. He feels no confidence in talking when he is blinded. It’s a little twist to what they have. Different circumstances cause shifts in their personalities. Akaashi feels like he has no steady personality when he realises the changes in his demeanour to which he is helplessly exposed. But Bokuto doesn’t mind, he knows how to work with them. The first time Bokuto had choked him and roared, had wanted Akaashi to reply as he usually does, but the longer it lasted the more it got clear that Akaashi wasn’t the type to talk when sightless. 

Today it’s normal for Bokuto to not hear words from Akaashi, but the moans are all the louder like this. He strokes through the black silken hair and twists a strand around his finger. “Will you be still for me, Akaashi?”, the elder urges, voice shifting to a more commanding tone than the praising prodding one he had before. 

According to that code, Akaashi puts his arms behind his back, acting as if he was tied. Moving is off limits. Should he lose balance Bokuto is there to catch him, he must not worry. Again Bokuto shifts and grasps the back of Akaashi’s head. “It’s alright. I got you. Come here. Your treat is waiting. Mmh, so good Akaashi, so good. Come, a little more.” He goads his partner on and leads him closer, makes Akaashi shift awkwardly on his knees to inch in until Akaashi’s face is right before Bokuto’s crotch. There is no demand yet, so Akaashi doesn’t take any action other than kneeling there like this. 

Bokuto is patient. He stares down at Akaashi, observes the heaving of his torso that comes with the ragged breath. “That’s my good boy.” Bokuto’s deep purring voice is music to Akaashi’s ears, it slides into his brain like a lubed cock into his ass, stimulating the best regions of his mental state. “Take deep breaths. Easy, just relax. Deep breaths, Akaashi.” 

And Akaashi follows, like in trance the voice guiding him. It is so oddly smooth during this. Bokuto’s voice that is. So tender and slick, it doesn’t sound like Bokuto’s at all. It pierces his head, it’s to drive him wild and to further penetrate his sanity. He loves Bokuto. He loves his voice. And as he breathes in so deep as he’s commanded, his mind slips. The scent is crazy. He smells Bokuto’s damp crotch, damp from the bath before, damp from the sweat, not properly washed as they had done nothing but soak in the water before. With no soap, with no scrubbing. It’s still Bokuto’s scent. 

Fingers tease Akaashi’s neck, rewarding him. “Again”, he demands, egging Akaashi on to drop much deeper into the trance. If there is one thing about Akaashi that Bokuto knows, then it’s that Akaashi’s best stimulated with everything that has to do with his head. The neck, the ears, auditory, olfactory, also taste. Sight too, but that comes into play differently, at least for the games Bokuto likes to play. For now Akaashi is good for him just like that. He prefers Akaashi incapable of seeing things to surprise him better with all the abysmally filthy things he is delighted to use. 

Akaashi’s exhale is shaky. He repositions his knees a bit and feels the fibres of the stiff carpet itch uncomfortably on his knees. The hot breath dampens Bokuto’s skin, it’s uncomfortable down here. The hand shoves him a little further in, makes his nose touch some skin. The order rings in his head, unrepeated but eternally burned into Akaashi’s senses. He inhales deeply, engulfs his nose, his head, his mind with the intense scent of his ace. Dark and manly, sweaty, dirty. His next exhale is loud, comes with a strained crooked sounding mewl. It doesn’t need another order. The push against his head is evident, his nose is buried in Bokuto’s sacs, he feels it, recognises it perfectly and he inhales so deep it’s getting him dizzy. To stimulate him further, Bokuto slaps his cock against Akaashi’s face. It makes him roll his eyes back into his head beneath the blindfolds. He wants to thank Bokuto, he wants to fall into his usual roll, but his mind drops. There’s a sharp tug at his hair, not pulling him away, but rather pulling him awake again. 

“Again”, Bokuto orders. Akaashi’s fingers twitch behind his back, plain in Bokuto’s sight. He can see his boyfriend faltering, he can hear his breath becoming tight. As it’s done, Bokuto taps Akaashi’s nape gently. “Hold your breath.” The order is absolute. The scent lingers in Akaashi’s nose, it sticks to the back of his throat and causes him to taste his lover without swallowing him at all. 

Another slap with his cock makes Akaashi twitch surprised. He desperately wants to take hold of his own cock by now, he wants to lean back and jack off for Bokuto, wants his master to see, wants his puppeteer to see it all as he falls and falls, deeper down the eternal stairs of disgrace. It’s Bokuto alone to witness how Akaashi looks, ripped from all his pride and honour, low and raw, plucked apart to a single piece of lust. 

A motion distracts Akaashi. The noise above his ears sound squelchy. Bokuto has started to jack off alone, and he makes Akaashi listen. Then another slap into Akaashi’s face and Bokuto moans to encourage Akaashi’s sanity to crumble further. It’s unfair, Akaashi thinks. It’s unfair how good Bokuto is to him while Akaashi is nothing but a passive slut right now. The world becomes hazy, the younger senses it despite the lack of sight. The air in his lung begins to burn! Yet the squelching sounds continue, faster than before. Bokuto still does it to himself. A first wiggle of Akaashi’s arms indicate that he needs it to stop for a bit, that he would welcome air in him, but Bokuto’s other hand just gives Akaashi a tender circular caress at the back of his head. “Hold it”, he enforces the previous order. The he gently tugs at Akaashi’s hair and pries him away. “Stay like this. Keep holding.” 

All the cussing words Akaashi knows run through his head as he is so close to pleading that is is allowed to breathe again. A flat palm at the back of his shoulders support Akaashi’s upper body. Bokuto has stood up, he keeps Akaashi in place and molds him into a position Bokuto desires. It’s difficult for Akaashi, the oxygen is running low and the position he is in needs a lot of power from his stomach muscles to keep himself balanced and upright, It drains him faster than he wants. Hen Bokuto rubs both nipples simultaneously. It makes Akaashi twitch and just a tiny gasp escapes him, but he saves it, doesn’t release all the air. As a punishment Bokuto tugs at both, just this time Akaashi is prepared and he can keep it in. “Good boy”, Bokuto praises. “Such a gorgeous good boy for me Akaashi.” Both nipples get thumbed again rewardingly. There is no pain in the one with the bite marks, Akaashi just feels dull and hazy. The thumbs press on the nipples and he circles them, rolls them into all directions. Then he lets go, kneels down and is on eye level with Akaashi. He drinks in how beautiful the younger looks. Chest unmoving, yet convulsing, trying desperately to follow the order until the very end. Bokuto’s index fingers move to the flat surface of Akaashi’s nipples and all he does is tap repeatedly, not adding any pressure, just a tender stimulus. It creates an erupting shake in Akaashi’s slender limbs. Eventually Bokuto remodels Akaashi into a more relaxed upright position and he stands before him, crotch aligned with Akaashi’s face. 

It’s when Akaashi thinks the repeal of the order is not far anymore, but the seconds tick away. Sweat pours from his armpits, from his back and from his scalp. He feels disgusting at the outbreak, but Bokuto still waits and admires. Second after second ticks by. Akaashi doesn’t realise it, but his steady kneeling becomes swaying.

“Breathe.” It’s the best word Akaashi has heard all day. The air flies from his mouth as he opens it and just forces it all away to replace it with fresh air. “Through your nose, Akaashi”, Bokuto adds teasingly. As if the hammering heart was not enough, Bokuto does things to him! Evil things! Evil evil things! But he does. He wants to please. He wants to be good. So he inhales, and it is his pure demise. Bokuto has his cock shoved up to Akaashi’s nose. The slick, frequently masturbated sweaty grossly damp and hard and ready cock! The tip that’s wet and smells like fluids Akaashi doesn’t want to name. It’s ragged as he breathes and all he feels is the scent and taste of Bokuto’s thick and manly meat. 

Pants turn to helpless moans, the air is running thin down here, he’s feeling like it’s hyperventilation but he doesn’t receive what is needed so desperately to calm down. Not enough air, or too much at once, he doesn’t care. All he feels is that he crooks, consciousness on the brim, but Bokuto is there to catch him. “Such a beautiful good boy for me, Akaashi”, Bokuto praises once again. “So pretty just for me.” There are no insults when Akaashi can’t see. Only best words for him. It feels less stressful when he’s praised blindfolded. There is no room to see himself that gives him reasons to deny. As a blinded man he is nothing but his soul. And this is what Bokuto really praises when he praises a blind Akaashi. 

Bokuto kneels down and holds Akaashi’s halfway fainted figure in his arms, allows him just a little bit of rest. “You can stretch out your arms now”, he allows. Akaashi’s head just slumps to the side, too weak to follow the command. Still, Bokuto gives him time. He sees Akaashi, sees him truly, pale and slender, stringy and hard, weak and sweaty. Pushed to limits and exposed to the soul. This is his one true, pretty pretty Akaashi. 

A kiss on Akaashi’s lips are supposed to wake him from the trance. He needs his partner up and aware of his surroundings if he wants to drop him into even darker depths of sin. 

Slowly Akaashi twitches in the strong arms. A hand runs through the damp black hair and pries him from the shock of almost losing it. Akaashi trembles, he seems so helpless and lost and weak and tiny. The sight turns Bokuto on, yet touches a spot in his heart that he is not happy to be touched. He heaves Akaashi up and takes two steps to lay him onto the bed. “Can you sit up for me, Akaashi?” The voice is tender. The same tender that fucks with Akaashi’s sanity. It’s cruel and unfair, but Akaashi does what he can to be the best he can be for his beloved Bokuto. Said Bokuto sits down next to Akaashi. The younger could tell because of the way the matrass suddenly dents next to him and cool room air is replaced with his wicked scent the other has. 

An arm is offered for Akaashi’s support and he happily obliges to lean against it, allowing his weak body to slack. “Are you still a good boy for me, Akaashi?” 

Oh. That question holds the next surprise. It’s going to be evil. It will turn him into a pathetic thing, he knows. Yet he’s too deep into this, fogged up from the still slight remaining lack of oxygen. His cock throbs and his will is broken. A few confused lutes force themselves up from his throat, but he can’t answer. There is no nod, there is no word just yet. But there is no pressure either. Bokuto is an unwavering tower of patience with Akaashi now. More time passes and the question almost slips Akaashi’s mind as he thinks sleep is closer than release. It all gets thrown over as Bokuto’s voice rings in his ears once more. “Will you be my good boy again, Akaashi? My good and gorgeous pretty boy?” 

The shiver that wrecks him turns into an involuntary spasm. Finally the nod is there. It makes Bokuto proud. His hand leaves the sweaty scalp and runs over the bruised neck. “Love you, Keiji”, he whispers. It’s a red flag for Akaashi to be called by his first name like this, so he jolts away, a mix of panic and emotional pain stabbing his chest, but Bokuto is there to hold him tight, to be his calming place. He traps his partner in his arms, whispers shushing sounds to him and kisses his neck. Akaashi is tense. He knows Bokuto wants to train him into accepting it, of being called intimately by Bokuto, but it’s just that he doesn’t feel ready. It’s scaring him. His name reminds him that he is still himself, even as the blind soul he is when Bokuto puts him on display. The tension within Akaashi’s body gets smoothed out by a warm palm following his limbs. “Breathe for me”, he murmurs. It’s the voice that induces trance, so he cannot resist the orders of a higher force. Bokuto is his god and he just follows the heavenly orders. He breathes and lets Bokuto even out the tension, lets him relax his muscles and mind equally. Over and over again the voice keeps ordering him to breathe, keeps ordering him to relax. Until Bokuto says four words that rip him from his entirety. 

“Drop yourself for me.” 

Akaashi feels unravelled once again. Open and vulnerable. He is Bokuto’s doll. His limbs spread. Akaashi is in full bloom now. He drops it all for Bokuto. Reluctance goes to where pride has left to long ago. 

“Now breathe for me, Akaashi”, Bokuto purrs. His head moves to snuggle against Akaashi’s ear, the tongue dips in and elicits a fast convulsion. The breath falters, but Akaashi does not forget what he needs to do. “That’s it”, the voice keeps groaning lowly into his ear. No, right into his brain. “That’s it, Akaashi. Breathe for me.” 

The next thing Akaashi recognises is something soft against his nose. As he breathes in, it makes him moan recklessly. The scent is ten times more intense than before. It’s dirty, it’s sweaty. It’s Bokuto’s unwashed shirt from practice. The stench stings right up Akaashi’s nose, the raw nature of it ripping is common sense apart. What he truly wants now is to gag and to push the hands away, so he does reach up after all. Bokuto’s hands slip from the fabric and he watches the shame and disgust flow from Akaashi’s heart as the slender one clutches onto it and presses to his nose to inhale deeper. 

“So good for me. So obedient, so good for me.” The words get repeated over and over, spurring Akaashi’s insanity on, feeding the fire that encourages the younger to give in to ancient instincts of mating and wanting nothing but prior undisclosed desires. His hips buck up and a hand shoots down to where his cock stands stiff and shaky with Akaashi’s trembling. He inhales deeper, doesn’t mind the way his wrist is caught to keep him off his cock. He doesn’t mind Bokuto controls him and eggs him on. He wants it, he starves for it! Control is for the dumb, he is a slave and he is at his master’s mercy, he exists for nothing but his god! His hips push and push, search and beg, he wiggles and he tugs at his wrist. Akaashi’s world spins and he wastes not a single thought on how Bokuto must feel right now. He lives in a world of lust, he drowns in it. 

And Bokuto watches him go down in it. Patient, loving how Akaashi comes apart beneath his hands. His smoothes his warm palm over Akaashi’s burning ribcage and down the slender waist. The eyes are lidded halfway as the observation continues, admiration for Akaashi’s stressed and unadulterated behaviour. The fingers that have the wrist caught bring then to Akaashi’s side and he places it there, trusting Akaashi is good enough for him to keep it there. He knows Akaashi is so close to burst that it is nothing but cruel to keep him waiting, but Bokuto hasn’t pulled through with everything yet. His own hand turns to give Akaashi’s cock a feathery brush with the tips of his fingers. The other’s hips buck up and Akaashi screams so loud that they think his lungs are going to burst. His free hand move to press Akaashi’s hips back into the surface, then the fingers return. From here on out Akaashi’s thrust upwards are futile, Bokuto is way too strong as to let a single movement slide. It’s fine to Bokuto. This is what he has wanted all along. The true colours of his beloved Akaashi. 

One firm pump down, then tilted fingers that rake their nails upwards the damp shaft.

“Will you be my good boy, Akaashi?” The teasing doesn’t cease. Akaashi nods as if he needs to break his neck by doing so, inhaling the ferocious scent of his boyfriend over and over again. The stronger’s hand is fast to clutch the shirt and to pry it from Akaashi. The newly won free hand of the younger’s is captured and Bokuto raises an arm and leads the thin fingers to his armpit. “Can you feel me sweat?”, he purrs. Akaashi’s heart sinks. He knows what to do. He doesn’t need an order, he doesn’t need to practice this, he knows by instinct. It is not what Bokuto wants right now, it is what /he/ wants right now. All the filth, all the disgust. He snaps upwards and blindly latches at Bokuto’s chest and licks from there to find the salty liquid and the dirty stench of an unwashed body. Although Bokuto had anticipated just that he is surprised how easy it is to get Akaashi to do such a thing for the black haired is usually such a clean freak. But it’s not difficult to brush off. Akaashi is turned on by strength and rawness, by genuine monstrous behaviour. It tickles everything in him that goes against his common sense and drives him wild. Everything that is forbidden and frowned upon in Akaashi’s daily life gets him going once he has fallen into deepest lusts. It’s a revealing of his true identity. That he wants to be a messy fucktard too, that he desires to be an animal. 

Eventually Bokuto tugs at his hair and gives him something new to work with. The underwear he had dropped in the bathroom before, that had been on the same pile as his shirt. Bokuto brushed it over Akaashi’s cheek. “Give me that pretty mouth”, he coos. Again Akaashi’s eyes roll back, his head enforcing everything with the most eager yes yes yes!!! He has no clue what it is but it smells like Bokuto, it smells like cock and sweat and lust and sin! He takes it like a dog would take a toy, snaps for it and takes it in to mute himself. 

“I have worn it for three days.” The words come out so casual and nonchalant. Behind the briefs between his teeth Akaashi moans, like absolutely nervewreckingly moans! He is losing it and panting through his nose, he feels disgraceful and ugly and /so good/! 

Bokuto grabs him by the hair and pulls him up by it, violently, yet controlled and hurls him stomach first onto the matrass. He throws the shirt next to Akaashi’s head. “Take it and smell it!”, he orders. In the meantime these thick and strong fingers dig into Akaashi’s hips and manhandle him, readjust him and pull his ass up. Akaashi does as he is told, still moans, can’t stop the gurgling muffled flow of evidently lustful promises. His entire being is shaken to the core, he trembles and twitches, convulses and needs more! Akaashi wants to invite Bokuto, wants more, wants him deep and wants himself get fucked! The attempt to wiggle his hips is futile, for Bokuto’s grip is way too strong. 

“You are my good boy, Akaashi”, Bokuto growls, then spits on him to wet his ass. Akaashi’s coming undone. He feels a mental orgasm ripping him apart. Then the fingers scoop up the misplaced spit and spread it around his hole. One finger goes in right away, and fuck, it burns! It burns so good, he wants the pain! Bokuto pulls out and spits again, scoops it up and enters with another finger, pulls out and forces in both. 

Akaashi’s knees buckle. A slap reverberates throughout the room and Akaashi’s ass cheek burns. Bokuto has used his dominant hand to slap him, to remind him to stay upright for him. So Akaashi tries, he genuinely tries! He wants to be the good boy, he wants to be the perfect doll for Bokuto! There is nothing in the world he wants more than Bokuto’s unwavering trust and acknowledgement! So no matter how shaky he is, he tries to remain steady for Bokuto as he keeps his nose buried in the shirt. The cloth in his mouth gets soaked by now and he wants to turn it a bit to feel more of the fresh disgusting taste! As his tongue moves to push against the fabric, to push it out, he tastes Bokuto’s cock again, flavour loosened with his watering mouth. Then he remembers the words. Bokuto has worn these for three days. It’s so filthy, it drives him mad. 

The fingers twist and spread him open. Akaashi can’t wait, he needs it. He screams behind the briefs and drops his hips intentionally, just to get pulled up again and to receive another wonderful blow. 

None has paid attention to when Akaashi’s tears have started. It doesn’t matter, their origin is not of negative emotions anyway. Bokuto decides he allows his partner some relief before he continues with him. “You need to stay upright for me now, Akaashi. Can you do that? Are you good for me?” And Akaashi nods. He nods frantically, repeatedly, endlessly it makes him dizzy. He stays upright and the fingers dig back into Akaashi. Bokuto’s other hand leaves the hips and he strives down, reaches for Akaashi’s cock. 

The briefs fall from his mouth as he stretches and tenses to the point where he thinks he cramps and dies on the spot. The scream that rips from him is deafening. Over and over, he inhales and screams, drool running down his sloppy swollen hips. The shirt is pushed against the headboard, the underwear is next to his face, but Akaashi just faces forward, making sure his mouth is free to breathe and scream with all his might. Bokuto sits back, works his ass shallowly and milks Akaashi to his heart’s content. The screams reach the neighbourhood, probably the end of the city. It’s bliss to Akaashi to be so free of any worries, he doesn’t think anymore, he just exists and follows what he feels he needs. And he needs to scream. 

The spurts are forceful as the stream ejects onto the blanket. Bokuto stops as soon as he sees the boy ejaculate and watches pleased as his cock is unleashed and keeps twitching and trembling and it keeps coming on its own. Bokuto puts his palm beneath and forms a cup, but can’t catch it all for Akaashi’s cock is way too vigorous as to spurt just downwards. It twitches and bounces as much as Akaashi trembles. 

Some of the cum gets scooped up and Bokuto brushes it along the hole to get a better lube. The remnants of the goo are held in front of Akaashi’s face, then clutched into it. Without a second thought Akaashi licks, licks it all and drinks it up with slurping sounds. He pants and feels like is about to die. That was mindblowing. 

As Bokuto feels like he has enough he smears the rest of spit and spunk into Akaashi’s face, dirties his flawless features further. Bokuto is mean, he knows, as a finger hooks into the knot in the back of Akaashi’s head and tugs. 

“No!”,, Akaashi begs. He doesn’t want to return to reality just yet! He is not done! He can come much more, he can come multiple times like this, he doesn’t want Bokuto to stop. 

“I’m cruel, I know”, Bokuto coos quietly, soothes him somehow with his mercilessly tender voice. Then the blindfold drops from him. It’s rather dim in regards of lighting in this room, yet Akaashi sees enough to understand that he is back to being real. He trembles. Unnerving sensations creep up his spine and along his veins, freezing him faster than he can comprehend. He wants to cry, just this time from distress. 

All this gets ripped from him with just a few words. 

“Are you going to be a good boy for me, Akaashi?” 

Akaashi’s eyes roll back. “Yes, Bokuto-sama!”, he moans. He wants to be a good boy. Those words make him drool like Pavlov’s dog, he’s conditioned to them alright. And then the next scream rips from him. Bokuto has slammed in. It burns, it hurts, it feels like rape has he feels his hips get ridden by even stronger ones, by a cock that’s sick in girth and great in length! It’s fleshy as the rest of Bokuto is. “I’m your good boy, Bokuto-sama!”, he moans out, mind already dropped along the road where he has picked it up seconds before. He feels hair pulled and notices just barely that Bokuto has clutched his strands once again.

The entire torso of Akaashi gets tugged up by the hair as Bokuto rides his hips into Akaashi mindlessly. This time it’s Bokuto who is blind. Blind for common sense, blind for the world, only working towards the promising light that shines so bright, the orgasm that is about to ravish them.

The ride is short for Akaashi, the explosion way too fast. Bokuto who has held back over all this time is equal in his peak, coming right behind Akaashi, as the latter’s orgasm result in anal spasms and massaging all the tension from Bokuto’s stiffened prick. 

Akaashi drops first. He is fucked senseless. The world spins, or is it just his head? The figure hovering above him is a mere shadow. Akaashi doesn’t give a fuck. Not even as Bokuto lifts him up into his lap and holds Akaashi to comfort him a bit. The black strands get brushed out of Akaashi’s face. It takes a few attempts to do so, for Akaashi is drenched in a mix of sweat and spit and cum in his face. It sticks perfectly to him and Akaashi couldn’t be more beautiful in Bokuto’s eyes. Fucked raw and reduced to his very substance that cannot lie. The one and only true Akaashi. 

The younger’s voice is weak. He sounds as if he is close to giving in to life and passing out. But his words weigh heavily. “I am such a filthy whore…”, he mutters. Half lidded eyes stare up at Bokuto. The mess the older stares into is wet. Wet with cum and sweat and spit and tears. With the back of his knuckles he keeps stroking Akaashi tenderly. “No you’re not. You are my good boy, Akaashi”, he whispers back. There is some hesitation and unspoken doubt lingering. Akaashi cannot lie. Not right now. So his raspy voice keeps on. “Nah…”, he continues weakly. “I’m a dirtly little cockslut whore…” His eyes close. Bokuto sighs. “Yeah. But just for me. You are my only dirty little cockslut whore. You are my good boy, Akaashi. My personal, only precious pretty pretty little boy.” The caressing goes on. Akaashi is about to lose it all. More than he has already lost. He feels his inner walls crumble and the tears break out. The wall is not ripped in yet, but it keeps taking all the damage from Bokuto’s words. 

“My one and only pretty boy, Akaashi.”


	5. Perfection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small causes make massive waves

The door slams shut so harsh the walls shake and Bokuto hears the vitrine windows clatter. This is not a good sign, so he rushes up and towards the entrance where the noise has originated from. Akaashi stands there, ripping his own vest from his long arms and smacking it to the ground. 

Bokuto is mute at the sight. He observes Akaashi’s hesitation, then watches the struggling male bend down to pick up the vest, pulling the sleeves back from the wrong side to the right one and smacking it onto the clothing hook. Still Bokuto just stands there and stares. Akaashi catches his stare, expression furious. “What?!”, he roars. Bokuto just rises his hands in defeat and turns to leave. Akaashi however rushes after him and grabs him by the collar, choking the older in the process. “Be useful for once!”, Bokuto gets screamed at and is pushed against the wall. Right where the blood from last week is. Agitation rises in Bokuto’s system. That was not funny and not pleasant either. Akaashi needs something to calm down. Yet it’s one of these moments when Bokuto doesn’t know if Akaashi expect him to overpower him and tame him, or if Akaashi wants to rant freely and to leave it all out on Bokuto’s reliable withstanding body. 

For now Bokuto plays along, lets himself getting manhandled as much as Akaashi can. “You wanna talk, babe?”, Bokuto tries carefully, but receives another shove against his back. To Bokuto it feels like a child was trying to push him somewhere, but he doesn’t mock Akaashi with that comparison. It seems like Akaashi experienced something that makes him feel like there is no control in his life anymore. Bokuto wants to return that feeling to Akaashi. He wants Akaashi to know he is in charge of things if he needs to. So he tags along, wants Akaashi to believe he is strong enough to take over a muscleman like Bokuto. He bends his back under Akaashi’s grip and gasps. “Guess that’s a no” he huffs, meant more to himself than to Akaashi, but Akaashi punishes it with another aggressive shove. “Shut up you useless prick! Who asked you and your fucking dense brain! You have comprehension abilities of fucking dirt! All you can do is fuck and cum and spank a volleyball!” 

“Careful, ‘kaashi”, Bokuto warns at this point. Those had been hurtful words. “Careful or what? You gonna rub it in my face what kinda weakling I am?” He grabs the collar harder and tugs to cut off Bokuto’s breath. The Ace tenses his muscles at the neck to withstand the strain so his breath is still going through his wind pipe effortlessly. “That’s all you’re good at anyway! You’re a sick control freak, you make me puke whenever I see you! You’re a drama queen! And for some fucking reason. Every. Single. One. Of our. Fucking. Mates. Gives you all the attention you want! You’re an attention whore, you get everything you want and you live as if there’s no tomorrow! You have no comprehension of what it means to fail, you just abuse bad luck to get the pity from all the oth- urgh!” 

Bokuto has turned and shoved Akaashi against the opposite wall. He has him by his throat now. “Careful, ‘kaashi”, he repeats darkly. “You can push me physically, but I don’t like it when you agitate me like this.” His index finger follows Akaashi’s throat, tip pointed threateningly. Then he lets go. Akaashi’s eyes are cold and vicious, he is not himself right now. The upperclassman’s heart sinks into his stomach. If only he could comfort Akaashi. 

It’s his pure surprise that Akaashi lashes out to him and is on Bokuto’s throat in turn, pressing down as hard as his slender fingers can. Bokuto lets him, stares at him unfazed, muscles strained to keep the fingers from digging in too deep. Akaashi looks so helpless and so furious. Slowly and ever so carefully Bokuto raises his hand to touch Akaashi’s arm, to soothe and comfort him. 

“Don’t you dare to fucking pity me!”, the other roars heartbrokenly upset. Yet Bokuto’s fingers keep stroking up and down, up and down in a soothing pace. They continue despite Akaashi’s yells, despite how desperate the other tries to choke him to make him fucking stop! So he keeps it up. His unnerved screeching and also the attack. “Stop it with that look! Fucking stop!”, he cries, eyes wide, evident of panic rising within Akaashi’s mentality. The fingers go ahead on Akaashi’s arms. Up and down, up and down. The thinner fingers clutch. They clutch so hard Akaashi’s wrists begin to hurt, but Bokuto simply meets his eyes, confronts Akaashi mercilessly with his calm aura. “Fucking stop your stare, you slutfucker, stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” 

Bokuto’s other hand lifts, goes in between the outstretched arms that connect Akaashi’s cramped up hands with the rest of his gorgeous body. He takes his time and is very cautious as his palm offers Akaashi’s cheek a place to rest in. Something warm, a place he can lean to in order to calm down. “I said don’t pity me!” The darker haired lets go and aims with pointed fingers for Bokuto’s face, lost in hysteria and panic. One that Bokuto doesn’t understand, but the shit stops here for him. Like hell he gets his eyes clawed out today!

Thankfully his reflexes are so fast that he can catch Akaashi’s hands just in time, one hand a mere inch away from Bokuto’s eye. It actually takes the older one a lot of strength to force this one hand back into place. It’s shocking him how serious Akaashi is about this. Akaashi’s hand shakes as he tries to force the hand forward, literally aiming for Bokuto’s eyes as it fights the obstacle in its way. Akaashi is out of it, his eyes are open, but they cannot see. They see demons, they see hatred and things he fears. None of what he sees is Bokuto. 

It’s enough for the upperclassman now. His grip around the slender wrists clutch and cause one hand to crack. A yelp rips from Akaashi’s throat, but it doesn’t end there. The younger shifts his gaze and looks at his left wrist for it had made the cringy crunching sound. Next thing Akaashi knows is that a knee connects with his stomach and he stumbles back and down, dropping with a searing pain roaming through his stomach. Bokuto steps close and Akaashi flinches, trembles in fear of receiving another blow. Bokuto’s palm connects with Akaashi’s cheek, he slaps him hard it sends Akaashi’s head flying sideways. Weight is settled on his shoulder. He is stepped on, he knows without looking up. The foot is there and rests a bit, then gives Akaashi a forceful shove and sends him to the floor. 

“Pain or Game?”, Bokuto growls. However Akaashi is silent. His stare across the floor ends in the void. The older stands above him and stares down. As there is no reply after what was presumably nothing more than a mere minute, Bokuto turns and stomps away. Akaashi’s eyes don’t follow the shadows of legs leaving his field of vision, he witnesses it peripherally. But he is left alone out here. His cries for help are so clumsy and pathetic, god fuck, he knows! They are silent and shaded and Bokuto is so dumb, he doesn’t look through his awful attitude! Akaashi feels too bad as to bring himself to stand. He wants to remain here. 

Half an hour later, Bokuto’s stomping feet return. He grabs Akaashi by the hair and pulls him up roughly. It elicits girly shrieks from Akaashi’s throat and he trembles as he is manhandled like that. If Bokuto is still mad, he doesn’t want to feel it on his entire body, not right now. He feels so vulnerable and lost, it’s not a good day for their sick and crazy game! 

The exact contrary to what Akaashi feared transpires. Bokuto pulls him into a firm hug. It’s steady and grounded. Bokuto doesn’t waver, not a single bit. Akaashi on the other hand doesn’t know what to do. He stands there and lets Bokuto hold him, but his arms are slack on his sides and he feels lifeless. Suddenly he remembers the question. Pain or Game. A shaky hand is raised under greatest effort. It lands at Bokuto’s waist. “Kou…?” His whisper is faint, the fear of being unheard is greater than the hate he carries for himself. Yet to his surprise Bokuto hums. He has heard him and he wants to know what’s up with him. Akaashi’s posture shifts in a minor way, but his face snuggles into the crook of Bokuto’s strong and resistant neck. “Pain… please…”

At those words, Bokuto pries Akaashi away from him. “Don’t you want to talk about it?”, he asked worried. “You already got your pain. Tell me wha-“ 

“Pain!”, Akaashi interrupts, voice tilting into hysteric pitches once again. Akaashi’s stability is crooked. In that case nothing helps. Bokuto sighs and licks his lips. His massive palm with these deliciously strong fingers land on Akaashi’s hips to hold him steady for a bit. Then he begins to apply pressure, faint at first but increasing gradually until Akaashi winces. They look into each other’s eyes all the while, Bokuto searching for what he is missing out in those narrow, elegantly shaped mirrors of Akaashi’s tormented soul. 

Eventually it becomes too much for Akaashi to keep a straight face and his eyebrows twitch furrowed for a split second. Next is his eye, the skin there scrunches up. To finish his crucial blow, Bokuto allows all strength to go into his fingers and squeezes symmetrically, causing Akaashi to gasp and to bend around his waist, trying to escape the grip. Bokuto actually lets go as he watches Akaashi sink lower. A hand goes into Akaashi’s hair, gives it a stroke, a tender tug next and then the hand goes down to touch on his shoulder. The inhale tells about how Akaashi is bracing himself for more to come, but it never comes. Instead Bokuto strokes Akaashi’s shoulder. It gets swatted away immediately. “Are you deaf you dense prick? It’s pain I said! Don’t give me your fucking pity!” 

At Bokuto’s sigh, Akaashi puffs up as threatening as he can be. He wants to make a godforsaken point! “You think it is that easy, huh? Looking down on me when I want it voluntarily? Who do you think takes your mood like twice a week minimum and does not say a single word? I never interfere with your bullshit and let you do whatever! Now you give me the looks as if /I/ am the crazy fucker here? Is that a goddamn joke to you? Am I so pitiful to you?” He gives Bokuto yet another shove. The other watches him patiently. “Do you keep up with me only because you pity me?!” He delivers another shove. Bokuto backs off with each, allowing Akaashi to trap himself against the wall. There he is again, the Akaashi that came through the door. 

“Whip or Mercy?” 

At that Akaashi halts. He stares at his partner for a moment, not believing what he hears. “I give you only these choices now.” Akaashi still stares. Bokuto is sincere. Last time he heard that choice was somewhere around the early stage of when they started. Bokuto waits out the answer that seems to have a heavy weight to Akaashi’s mind. He doesn’t approach him this time, doesn’t hug him. It’s a choice Akaashi has to make on his own. 

Eventually Akaashi shrugs nervously and shakes his head. “You can’t give me that, that’s not fair!” It’s Akaashi who takes a step back first, feeling like he needs to flee. “Not after this, that’s sick. That’s too sick, even for you!” 

“Whip or Mercy”, Bokuto stresses impatiently. Akaashi’s fingers tremble first, his bottom lip twitches unsteadily and Bokuto sees the warning signs. Akaashi’s struggles are too real. The black haired turns on his heels and bolts. Bolts two steps only, for Bokuto is in his way before Akaashi can rush out the hallway and to a room he can lock himself into. “If you need it, then it’s fine”, Bokuto says calmly. Akaashi simply shrugs and avoids the other’s gaze. But Bokuto is cruel man, cruel to the very core. He grabs Akaashi’s chin and lifts it up. “Look at me. And tell me honestly.” 

Akaashi tries to pull away. A hand in his lower back stops him. If it is Bokuto’s grip, no one can escape. “…Mercy”, is the final answer. Bokuto sighs relieved, for he was not up for the Whip option actually, not after how Akaashi had greeted him today. But that is off the table anyway, so he lets go and scoops the devastated Akaashi up in bridal style. From there he carries him to the couch and flops down with him. “Okay. I’m ready.” 

“Can we order Pizza?” Akaashi’s eyes look up pleading. It rips a guttural laughter from the bigger man and he lets Akaashi go. “Fetch the phone. I go pee and fetch us coke.”

Somehow the change of mood helps Akaashi release some of the mental pressure. He looks back into the direction where the hallway is and sighs. It is so stupid and Bokuto will mock him endlessly for losing his cool over something like this. He doesn’t know how to talk about it without seeming like the biggest idiot in the whole universe. Nobody could understand this. The cocktail of pressure for success, appearance and perfection. Akaashi feels alone with it and isolated, all these things are things Bokuto has no clue about. Bokuto would never understand. 

The coke goes before Akaashi on the tiny couch table, and the slumped forward frame of the younger student straightens up a bit. “Wow. Ice cubes. Who are you, being so considerate?” Bokuto tackles him from the side and huffs. “Oh shut it. I’m hot, I figured you need something to calm down.” 

“Overly confident as ever”, Akaashi spits venomously and shoves his phone into Bokuto’s face. “Place your order, mine’s already done.” The other hand reaches for the coke. Must be from the fridge Akaashi muses as he feels how cold the glass is. The ice cubes couldn’t cool it down so fast. The first sip causes his teeth to sting, that’s how cold it is in his mouth. Almost frozen. “Did you mess with the fridge temperature again?”, he snarls in Bokuto’s direction. “Some ingredients lose their taste when they are stored too cold! Do you want our next soup to taste like water again?”

To his further agitation Bokuto ignores him entirely and rather scrolls through the app to find something that he likes. “I swear, next time you are asleep I cut a tomato and stuff it into your underwear!” 

“Oh. Cool, gives me reason not to wear one anymore.” 

“Fuck, Kou, that’s beside the point! Forget it, you make me si-“ The rant is interrupted by Bokuto who leans over to kiss him out of the blue. Akaashi is silent instantly and lets him, but only because Bokuto had let him choose an option he can work with. Now that he had calmed a bit, Mercy is definitely something he can work with. All he needs to do is being honest about his day. Then there is no punishment. The honesty had started there. Akaashi doesn’t want to choose the Whip for it would mean something way too terrible. On the other hand if he hadn’t made a choice, Bokuto would have left him alone for the rest of the day, isolating him further. He doesn’t want that either. He wants to be with Bokuto. Maybe that was a step for some normalisation for once. 

As their lips part, Bokuto looks Akaashi in the eyes. “You make me sick…”, Akaashi finishes his sentence, much less serious than before. Bokuto gives him a loving smile and then stares back into the screen. Akaashi leans back while waiting for Bokuto to finish and stares at the ceiling. Whip means Akaashi’s in the lead in inflicting pain. If Akaashi really had taken the lead, would that have ended well? It must have taken up so much bravery from Bokuto’s side to bring up this choice again. Last time had gone so terribly wrong. He closes his eyes and thinks about it for a second. Then he thinks how he was genuinely ready to gauge out Bokuto’s eyes only for the stare of pity he had given him. 

A warm hand on his knee wakes him up. “So… Ready, ‘kaashiboy?” 

Akaashi swallows thickly. Arguable if he was ready facing what upsets him way too much. “It is nothing, really… You won’t understand, so there’s no use in try-“ The fingers on his knees squeeze tighter, making him fall silent. Another thick swallow. “Did you finish the order?”, he asks, desperate to guide the topic elsewhere. “Is placed”, Bokuto replies firmly. “You were about to say?” 

Oh shit. So there is no escape now. Akaashi’s body turns a tad away, seeking a position from which he can bolt if needed, but Bokuto is right there. There is no way out. “It’s the literature exam… I failed the literature exam…” He shrugs. Bokuto swallows, eyes wide in disbelief. “Oh fuck, ‘kaashi you could have said that! What happened, you never fail!” Bokuto wants to lean in for a hug, but Akaashi fights him off harsher than before, indicating the story still goes on. “Not your fail. My fail.” 

At that Bokuto stares. Wait. What? … oh. Oh! “So… what mark is it?”, Bokuto pries. Akaashi shrugs, resulting in another squeeze in Akaashi’s knee. Not in a warning manner this time, but in a supportive encouraging one. “It’s okay, I won’t laugh. Promise.” 

A dark mumble comes from Akaashi’s halfway closed lips and he drinks some coke fast enough to swallow down all the shame that comes with it. Bokuto hasn’t heard it and gives the other a questioning “Huh?” The thick swallowing is enforced with some more coke. Then Akaashi takes a deep stressed breath. “I got a B… A B+ actually, but that’s still a fucking B…” 

“A B?”, Bokuto hoots, voice tipped into and incredulous tone. He doesn’t see the problem with a fucking amazing B! That’s like, the second best grade, he is so proud of Akaashi for achieving a B! To Bokuto there is no problem at all! He wants to burst in happiness with Akaashi and celebrate it so hard that he thinks it’s best when he’s the one who pays for the Pizza today! 

But still he see’s that it’s a problem for Akaashi. And that is all that counts right now. Not a Pizza and not a coke and not the plus behind the B. 

“I knew you wouldn’t un-“ “Hush!”, Bokuto interrupts him quickly. “You’re right, I don’t.” He scoops up Akaashi’s hand and kisses his knuckles. “But it’s bothering you, so it’s important anyway.” After a shift in his position he leans up and pulls Akaashi into a hug. The latter is reluctant and acts feisty though, gives Bokuto a few pushes and tries to wiggle out. It’s painful how persistent Bokuto is about the hug, about the comfort. And always these hushing noises as if Akaashi was a goddamn child! “Piss off, you have no idea how I feel! You loser, grades mean nothing to you, you can’t-“ 

“Careful, ‘kaashi”, Bokuto interrupts in a warning tone once more. This time Akaashi actually stills. “I can’t help you if you don’t let me. But I don’t need to understand it all. I feel with you.” Akaashi remains still. And quiet. He is unsure of how to respond to this. He feels caught and guilty and hates himself for that failure that adds up to his already committed ones. Bokuto’s arms squeeze harder. It makes the younger pull away again. The half hearted tug is met with a soothing “Shh” that causes Akaashi to give up entirely. He slumps into Bokuto’s arms and sighs. “I’m an honour student… That B kills my reputation. All the work I put into it, it’s useless if I can’t get an exam done. It’s no big deal. It is remembering things and writing them down. That’s like the tiniest thing in my entire life, and it can ruin me if I am too dumb to even manage that!” 

“Shh~ It’s okay, Akaashi.” Bokuto’s hand swings up and he rubs Akaashi’s scalp with his strong fingers. That actually feels so good, Akaashi closes his eyes. But if only Bokuto would stop with these cooing noises… A sigh rips from him and Akaashi’s jaw tenses as he grits his teeth. “It’s not okay!”, he insists. “I want perfection! This shit is not perfection, this shit is not me! I can’t do a single thing right, what do you expect me to think about myself?” 

“In your final certificate it will be summarised to a wonderful and perfect A.” 

That has to sink in. Bokuto might be right. If Akaashi can stop failing now, then he might make it to a straight A certificate after all. “Hey, Kou…?” A curious hum is his answer and their eyes meet. “Game?”, he asks carefully. The grin across Bokuto’s face spreads wickedly. “It’s on!” With that he jumps on top of Akaashi and runs his hands below his shirt. Game was his favourite command!


	6. Realisation

Exactly one day later it’s Bokuto who crashes in and slams the door. The walls vibrate and two picture frames fall off and shatter on the ground. Akaashi sighs and comes running. His left wrist is in a bandage, Bokuto had actually cracked something in there. Otherwise Akaashi is fine. “Welcome home!”, he tries to make it right just as much as he can for Bokuto, to calm him before complete escalation. Yet there is no hope for it anymore. He doesn't even take off his shoes as he storms straight for Akaashi, grabbing his throat and slamming the younger against the wall that his head bumps in and thumps. For a moment Akaashi sees black only at that impact. Bokuto pays absolutely no attention to Akaashi at this point though and clutches the collar tighter, pulls him off and smashes him against the wall again. 

A foot hooks behind Akaashi’s feet and pulls, stealing the ground from beneath the younger. He watches him fall pathetically. To his demise Akaashi tries to catch his fall with the left hand that is closer to the floor and he screams out as the pressure creates excruciating pain. Akaashi tries to worm and squirm away a bit, but the hand is back on him and rips open the back of his neck with his fingernails. Again Akaashi screams, eyebrows furrowed together. To mute himself he bites his lower arm as he feels Bokuto kick him hard into the side. 

The next thing he knows is that he is upright again, still dizzy from the impact against the wall. It always happens so spontaneous with no means for Akaashi to prepare. It’s what he does for Bokuto, taking it all in. Even as he crashes against the clothing hooks montaged at the entrance wall, he still thinks this is normal. The bore into his upper arm as he feathers the impact with it and gasps for he knows those will become some nasty bruises. The lovely fingers are back again, right around his throat, keeping poor Akaashi into place. Then he tugs. Tugs upwards, pulls Akaashi’s weight along. Finally Akaashi catches a short glimpse of Bokuto’s eyes and they are wild and distant, animalistic instinct their true base. His toes tip as Akaashi follows the tug in panic. He remembers not so long ago when Bokuto had raised him despite the weight, but it’s not any better now that Akaashi still feels some faint ground swaying beneath his feet. Bokuto presses down so harsh it definitely refreshes the fading greenish bruises at his neck to become red and purple once again. Unlike promised Bokuto crosses the line again and lifts Akaashi from the ground completely but doesn’t hold him there. He drops him once again. The instinct in Akaashi tells him to catch his own fall, so he uses his hands, stretches them out first and howls as his weight drops on his wrist once again. 

Regret eats Akaashi up from the inside. The thoughts of yesterday haunt him for he thought that he’s the only one who understands the wickedness of this world. Yet Bokuto suffers from it equally. Those two are all the same anyhow. 

Akaashi reaches out with hurt hand and wants to touch his partner’s leg, wants to convey support with minor details as he hopes they will submerge into Bokuto’s consciousness. The hand is caught. Not at the wrist however, Bokuto grabs him in the middle of his lower arm and drags him up. Akaashi stumbles helplessly and gives Bokuto a shocked stare but doesn’t last so long. Again he is shoved against the wall, the hand moved up and Akaashi feels the worst, blood running cold as it’s right before Bokuto. 

His breath hitches and he screeches, mentally already feeling his bones break, but to his surprise it never comes. Bokuto kisses the bandage and looks up at him. It’s a little bit of sanity. That takes off so much weight from Akaashi’s heart. He can do nothing but return the stare, remaining body numbed. He wonders how he has forgotten to yell the safe word for he thought he was in serious danger. Bokuto has stopped on his own though. 

It keeps Akaashi’s mind busy for not longer than a second. The love is fading back to void. His arm gets tugged again so Akaashi falls right into Bokuto’s arms. Right now it’s not the safe space that he wishes for, his entirety screams at him he is ought to bail! His legs won’t move however. Then there is a push against his chest. Akaashi crashes back into the wall, the air gets hit out of his lungs. In lightning speed Bokuto is all over him and forces Akaashi’s neck aside to nuzzle around the neck and bite. A pained gasp is triggered in return. Akaashi’s fingers clench at the pain but otherwise stay put. The bite takes oddly long today, the nuzzling around the wound not typical for Bokuto. It takes a while, then there is a kiss. That one alters to a bite again, not as harsh as the one before. Akaashi takes it as a sign to take some action by himself. The right hand reaches to touch Bokuto’s elbow. 

Similar to a dog defending his food he growls at the touch and bites down harder. Akaashi cries out quietly, tries to strain his voice to nothing, but Bokuto’s clench increases. Akaashi gives Bokuto a panicked slap on his arm to get him to move away, yet it’s futile. Black fog rushes into him right after the slap for it had caused Bokuto to break the skin. The blood is flowing freely from the crook of his shoulder that leads up to his neck. As his body slumps, Bokuto catches him with ease. It’s faint that Akaashi sees and hears the world, witnesses everything in accelerated motion for his brain cannot keep up with all the impressions going on. 

A hand is on his thigh. It makes no sense, Akaashi wears his pants. The long ones, his home pants, the black joggers Bokuto finds so good on him. They hug his ass like yoga pants and still seem fluffy and comfortable. They reveal his crotch so easily, and yet the elastic makes them so easy to remove. 

Oh. Easy to remove. That is why. But Akaashi isn’t in the mood at all. Not that it matters, that’s not happening the first time. That’s why there’s lube behind the shoe case now. Does Bokuto remember that it’s there? 

The sensory return of Akaashi is gradual. By the time his ass is already slicked. So at least Bokuto does remember things when he is out of it. Does Bokuto even realise Akaashi is close to fainting though? The back of his head throbs, so does his shoulder. He feels a little numb, it’s so hard to move his arms to boot. He is like a lifeless sex doll now. The hands move up and down his back and at least that’s somewhat soothing Akaashi tells himself and allows his mind to slide away. Yeah, he wants to know what has upset his partner oh so much. There is no answer to that, he knows. There’s many things in life that makes you do dumb shit, just to cope with it. Akaashi knows. Usually he is not the dick to act out on that, still yesterday he was. He can’t blame Bokuto, of course he never would. 

He loves his beloved Bokuto, he tells himself, for Bokuto is his one and only god. 

The cock slams in. Akaashi only huffs, too weak to feel it all entirely. Yeah. It’s alright, he is Bokuto’s little fuckslut after all. The dirty little whore. Bokuto is only pent up sexually, that must be it. He hasn’t done it properly last night, hasn’t drained Bokuto enough. Today he would blow him off all night.

He gets shoved back and forth with all the moves Bokuto offers him. Suddenly he drops to the side and Bokuto hooks a leg over his shoulder, opening Akaashi for full display. Akaashi feels so tired but he meets the eyes, the grip to reality still vague. He can see his partner rut him effortlessly, sweat not even a thing. Akaashi’s fingers tingle. Each move makes the cold in his stomach harden further. 

“Babe…”, Akaashi calls out breathlessly. “…I don’t feel so well…” Then he convulses and empties his stomach on the entrance carpet. Bokuto freezes instantly, pulls out and is by Akaashi’s side. He calls his name, over and over, but it is so distant to him that it is surreal. Maybe this is just a dream already. It sounds so desperate. Akaashi. Akaashi. ‘kaashi Babe, come on, talk to me!! Akaashi! Honey, sweetheart, babydoll. Those names are new. Then he hears him call it out. Just for him. Keiji, please get up! 

The next thing Akaashi remembers is that he is strapped to a cushioned tray and he hears motor sounds. Bokuto’s voice tells someone his insurance details. That’s ridiculous. Why would he need insurance? The voices stop as Akaashi laughs to himself. Bokuto rushes over. “’kaashi!”, he calls out. It thrums in his head and Akaashi shushes him quietly. Holy shit, his head hurt as if he got it way too hard. "The fuck, Bo… turn down your volume, what the hell is up?” He touches Bokuto’s hand and squeezes it softly. It’s only then that he realises a thin tube connects him to a bag with liquid. “Wow, did you make me cum so hard I fainted?” The ambulance man chokes on his breath as he hears Akaashi’s question and is flustered beyond belief. Now that’s blunt. But Bokuto shakes his head no and grasps Akaashi’s ice cold hand. “I went overboard, Akaashi, I’m so sorry!” The older kisses him on the forehead, then on the mouth. Akaashi simply huffs. “So you did fuck me unconscious after all”, he states. The medical assistant snorts again, not exactly eager to hear these things. 

“Nah, you passed out in the middle. You worried me shitless man! That’s not cool, you know?” 

“Wha, that’s not cool from you to freak out so much.” He raises his hand and cups Bokuto’s cheek. As Akaashi stares up at him with those faithful eyes, Bokuto’s heart begins to melt. He looks all over Akaashi’s pretty frame. He looks so fragile right now, it’s torturing Bokuto’s tender heart. That is not what he has wanted. He wants the best for his Akaashi. Always only the best! “Hey Bo…” He clears his throat and corrects himself. “Hey Kou?” Bokuto grasps his hand tighter. “Right here, babe”, he promises. He’s eager to know what his lover wants to say. Whatever it is, Bokuto will do anything and everything just to make Akaashi forgive him. The next sentence is not what neither of the present men expect. “Did you put the pants back on me, or is my junk still dangling?” 

Bokuto huffs in disbelief and tries to laugh, but can’t really bring his heart to genuinely find this funny. The situation is too crucial in his opinion, not a laughing matter at all. Still he appreciates that Akaashi tries to calm him down. “All packed up and squeaky clean”, he promises. Akaashi gives him a grateful nod. “Why didn’t you just tuck me into bed like usually when you fuck me up too hard? I can’t remember that much anyway, but I feel good. Tell the driver to do a u-turn, I wanna go back home and cuddle and get a proper 69.” 

Again the medical assistant snorts and Akaashi finds it funny as fuck to distress others with his foul mouth. Usually Akaashi has something like a filter, where did that go? “Nah, you’re not exactly fine. You get pain killers right now and some other stuff to get your circulation going. That’s what the guy there said to me.” 

“Ah.. so that is why I feel so drowsy. And probably talk what comes up to my mind without a second thought.” He chuckles and this time Bokuto tunes in, so relieved his Akaashi is on a good way already. “Basically yeah. Guess so.” It’s a bit awkward still. The man accompanying the ride interferes now. On his report sheet there is also the probability of domestic violence as the reason for the patient’s income. The box is checked but the man wonders how accurate that is. Those two seem on the same wavelength after all, but he keeps it checked. 

Bokuto makes some room for him to have a closer look on his Akaashi. For that he lets go of the hand, but Akaashi starts to whine and reaches up. He wants the hand, he wants it so so bad! It’s childlike what he does, but he doesn’t care. He wants his lover close. Eventually Bokuto leans forward and takes it once again, giving Akaashi the security he needs to answer all the questions. What he remembers and, despite holding hands with Bokuto, if he’s abused. 

“Oh no, I just love to get my fucks rough”, is what Akaashi says. It’s a lie, Bokuto knows. Akaashi likes it rough, but he doubts Akaashi likes to get hit against the interior until there’s blood. Thinking about it Bokuto starts to wonder if that really is the way a relationship should be. Akaashi covers for him, so Akaashi doesn’t mind, but it’s actually Bokuto who does. Yet he keeps his mouth shut, lets Akaashi talk and listens carefully because he is confident the police will want to hear the same from Bokuto not long from now. 

As they reach the hospital, the ambulance man is done. Literally done. He doesn’t want to hear anything from this couple anymore. It will be one hell of an embarrassment telling the circumstances to a nurse. Akaashi had insisted in was hallways sex against the wall, gone a little bit wrong. He has given details of times Akaashi and Bokuto have shared before. Of Akaashi being hooked around Bokuto’s hips and riding him vertically, of loving danger and kinky thrill, and also of how he loves scratching and breath play. For someone who hit his head and passed out, Akaashi thinks quite fast and covers everything to explain his wounds by kinky sex. 

Bokuto really wants to join Akaashi to where they bring him, but first they check his head to see if anything was injured. Bokuto is fidgety, he desperately wants to tag along. A police officer however is already there and wants to speak to him. He swallows and tags along with him instead. 

At night Akaashi grabs his phone and texts Bokuto. He wants to feel some closeness. His boyfriend wasn’t allowed to stay with him overnight, but Bokuto promised him he would sit on his phone and stay up all night and the entire next day just to be there when Akaashi needs him. 

AK. Hey. Did the police dude talk to you too? Miss you, it’s boring here.   
BK. Yeah, told him what you said to the medics guy. Was that okay? How’s it going?   
AK. Cool, told him the same. Was beet red when I was done. We’re off the hook.   
BK. How are you? Any news?   
AK. My skull is thick. No concussion either. Dunno what that was. I heard I barfed on the carpet?   
BK. Yup you did. Cleaned it up, you won’t see a thing.   
AK. The carpet is no biggie. I miss you. It doesn’t smell like you hear.   
BK. What do I smell like?   
AK. Like farts.   
BK. Kidding me?   
AK. Yeah 8D   
BK. Aw you shithead, not cool!   
BK. When can you come home?   
AK. They say tomorrow if I’m normal.   
BK. Normal? Is that edible?   
AK. Dunno? Am I edible?   
BK. Oh damn right you are!   
AK. I miss you   
BK. I miss you too… the bed is way too big.   
AK. I thought you never tell me you miss me too. Took you 3 tries!   
BK. I thought you knew man!   
AK. I do anyway.   
BK. I love you   
AK. I love your farts.   
BK. Go to sleep.   
AK. I love my fart machine.   
BK. GO TO SLEEP!  
AK. I love you, Kou   
BK. I love you too, babe. 

Bokuto stares at his phone. The texting hadn’t lasted long. He didn’t get all the answers he had wanted, then again Bokuto doesn’t know the questions he wants to ask either. He just wants to see Akaashi again. As he puts his phone away, he raises his hands and stares at them against the street lights seeping in through the window. Those hands hurt Akaashi. Those hands that have no self control. No. That man who owns these hands has no self control. He needs to do something about it, that much is clear now. It has become so normal to him that he can rant on Akaashi that it has slipped his attention when it had escalated so damn much. All he wants for Akaashi is to return home. He wants his boyfriend back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That is kinda not where I wanted the story to go, but welp


	7. Mutism

Bokuto acts like a gentleman since the first minute of the day. First thing in the morning before Akaashi would return home, Bokuto considers soaking the carpet in another layer of cleaning solution for the third time since the incident. The stain is long gone but he doesn’t want for Akaashi to come home and to remember instantly what has hospitalised him in the first place. 

Being home alone has some benefits though. The bathroom door is wide open as he takes his morning whiz. Bokuto smirks mildly as he thinks about how wild it drives Akaashi when Bokuto doesn’t mind closing the door. Also how wild it drives Akaashi when Bokuto doesn’t wear a single garment when they’re home. He looks down on himself and sees only his skin, there are no clothes. It’s his personal freedom to roam around as he desires, he thinks, but then again it’s driving Akaashi wild. If Akaashi were here he would scold in his bored and calm manner. That boredom is always so totally fake in Bokuto’s eyes. Akaashi does care, otherwise he wouldn’t bring it up in the first place. 

All these thoughts make Bokuto sigh. He tries to imagine Akaashi’s voice complaining and he turns to snap the door shut. It’s dark. Shit. He had forgotten to turn on the lights because he had the morning sun shining in from the back room window all the way to the toilet anyway. Akaashi would probably laugh so hard at him. … Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe Akaashi would just huff and come to his rescue to press the light switch on the outside. What would Akaashi really do? A lecture about manners maybe, that seems likely. But from the bottom of his heart Bokuto wishes that Akaashi is here to make him find out first hand. 

Blindly he grasps behind himself to find the handle and snaps it down so the door springs open. A faint ray of light falls in and Bokuto sighs. It’s empty without Akaashi. He even decides he will put on fresh clothes from head to toe now. First he has to mix the solution for the carpet. While that soaks he will try to clean the blood off the wall that none of them has had the opportunity to take care of so far. And he wants to buy new picture frames for the photos of them which he has caused to fall off the wall. Somewhere in there he has to squeeze a shower in. He needs to be done before noon. Akaashi will be released around noon time, that’s the latest update that he got. 

Once done in the bathroom Bokuto does just that. He takes a cleaning bucket, reads the instructions for the third time and follows the instructions. In Bokuto’s opinion, more carpet solution causes a better result, but before he ruins it he rather sticks to what the tag says. It’s thanks to that wise decision that nothing foams over. But unlike instructed Bokuto doesn’t care for rubber gloves. He just takes the bucket and a sponge and begins to rub the solution into where he thinks the stain has been. As he kneels there and works the liquid into the fibres he sees Akaashi lying there before his inner eye. He sees the sweat drenched skin and the whiteness of it that is so unusual for Akaashi. His man has been way too pale that moment. Bokuto swallows. The scrubbing motions have stopped. Even the voice still haunts him. “Babe. I don’t feel so well.” Akaashi has made it sound as if it’s nothing. His fingers clench the sponge so water getting all squeezed from it. He can feel the tears well up. Shit, Akaashi endures so much for him. He regrets it so damn hard!

But everything needs to be perfect for when Akaashi returns home. Why does he think there is time to sulk now? Maybe it’s best Akaashi doesn’t come back home to him but instead moves back in with his parents to stay safe. And Bokuto would go back to the gym every night to release his overly accumulating energy. No more venting on Akaashi. 

The next breath he takes is shaky, but he’s confident that suggesting this solution would lead to an agreement both could accept. Still, for now he needs it all squeaky clean. Akaashi needs to be picked up soon!

His hands dive back into the bucket with the sponge and takes up some soapy water to rub it around further. To his surprise that procedure takes quite long. Sponges really don’t hold out, he tells himself as he stares at the rubbed off rough surface side of the sponge. Doesn’t more pressure in the scrubbing mean better results? This is his third sponge he ruins! Akaashi uses them for a week each time before disposing of it. Even then they look like new, but he remembers Akaashi always say that if you use a sponge for too long, it accumulates bacteria and that is not hygienic. 

Again. He thinks about Akaashi again. He must not get distracted! What was next on his mental list? Flowers? No. Window cleaning? Nah, too much work, there is no time. Oh! The wall! Of course. He stares at the leftover solution in the bucket. Soap is soap, right? Maybe he can use it to wash some blood off. So he grabs the bucket’s handle and walks over the two steps to where the blood sticks to the wall. Bokuto can recognise the pattern. Streaks of where his fingers had torn off Akaashi’s skin. Another swallow helps him push the thoughts away and he dips the abused sponge into the water, wrings it out a bit and starts to rub along. Akaashi’s terror-drunken face flashes up in his mind and it takes all his might to shake it off. Another flash of Akaashi spikes up in his mind, arms around him, moaning blissfully. Who was the real Akaashi? The one being scared shitless or the one willingly moaning for him? It doesn’t make sense to Bokuto, how much Akaashi is willing to put up with, just to be with Bokuto. Are both Akaashi’s real? Or is one fake? He doubts Akaashi stoops low enough to pretend he’s scared, Akaashi is not the type to play the pity card or to make up emotions for mere ass crawling. But lust on the other hand is easier to fake. Yet not the love Akaashi shows. If Akaashi doesn’t love him, he wouldn’t cover for Bokuto once the police is involved. And still, Akaashi has done just that. Akaashi has covered for Bokuto, has said so many embarrassing things that are so totally not like him! Damn, they know big parts of their sex life now. But nothing of what kind of relationship they share. 

Suddenly he snaps out of it. He can’t waste time thinking about it! He needs to get the wall clean and take a shower, buy the picture frames and then he needs to pick up Akaashi! He’ll prove that he can be a good boyfriend! So the scrubbing returns, just a tad too enthusiastic. Bokuto sees the progress happen, sees the brownish layer fade from the wall. Just a bit more. Just a bit. And then it becomes grey. With confusion he stares at the water. It is clean enough. The sponge looks good too. Why would the wall become grey from cleaning it? At the back of his mind he hears Akaashi’s voice. “We probably need to paint that over. If we wash it off, the paint might come off too and expose the grout behind.” …so he has done it. Has he ruined the wall now? Oh Akaashi would be so mad! Maybe if he hangs a picture there? But it’s such a good wall sex spot, a picture would ruin the access! 

What is he even thinking, Bokuto wonders. He wants to break up what they have, so this spot will disappear no matter what. Frustrated he slams the sponge back into the bucket and drags it away to empty it in the bathroom sink. He needs a shower. Urgently. A hot one, then a cold one to cool off. His agitation tingles in his digits, in his chest, yes even in his crotch. He wants to slam something against a wall, he wants to swish his arm along a shelf and knock it off and crash the dishes that they have! He wants to fall upon Akaashi and ravish him and fuck him to the ground! That frustration that he feels, he can’t find a channel for it to control! It’s overwhelming to feel so much at once! The fear of losing his one and only Akaashi, facing reality, the emotions that it creates! It comes crashing down, fear and ire, feelings and reality. It’s all so heavy, he loves Akaashi! He loves him! So so much! It’s unacceptable that he’s demise for him! He wants to display how strong he is, he wants to pick him up and throw against the wall and hold him up and bang him senseless in the best way possible! He wants to prove his strength, that he’s reliable and that he’s capable of holding him up whenever, that he is strong enough to protect him and to be the pillar he can lean on. He wants nothing bot to prove his worth and put it on display how strong he is, only for Akaashi.

His fist hits the tile. The skin tingles uncomfortably. Red splotches have formed and fuck, they itch! To ease it up he turns on the water, then he hits the tiles again. That desperation eats him up. It’s the pharynx of Cerberus, coming from three sides to rip and tear on him until his heart is dropped to rot beneath the ground. It’s dark around his head and he feels useless. He needs to perform better! Better, better, always better! If he lets them all down because he is not always at his best, then there is no use in putting any trust into him at all! Just one miss can make it all crumble! 

Like in Volleyball. What kind of Ace is he when his success rate is not 100%? He doesn’t want to be replaceable! No matter how admirable his spikes may be, a strong hit and some aiming don’t do shit of they don’t go through. The purpose of a spike is to score, not to fall into the blocker’s palm. …Like with Akaashi! Bokuto’s strength does nothing if it doesn’t score. He can be as rough as he wants, but if it doesn’t fulfil its real purpose there’s no need in being strong at all. What he does is not protect or care. His approach has been wrong from the get go. Display alone doesn’t win the game. He needs someone for strategy. A team partner whom he can trust, who tosses perfectly for him to get the score. He needs his Akaashi to get everything alright. In the end it’s Akaashi who is in the lead. As a setter on the court, but also in their love life. He can’t channel things alright if Akaashi doesn’t help. But Akaashi hasn’t complained so far. 

Bokuto sits down in the small shower tub and lets the water rain on him. The frustration is still there, but the burning rage is gone. Thinking hurts his head, but somehow Akaashi is still right. Bokuto is dense in so many ways, he’s rather a man of instinct than strategy. Overthinking is not his style, so it confuses him that he is overthinking to begin with. Maybe calling him dense is Akaashi’s way of complaining. Maybe Akaashi has tried to tell him continuously what he wants to change when he snaps and Bokuto has heard not the words but only the yelling. He hates the yelling and his brain shuts off until it’s over, but the issues start there probably. Paying no mind and thinking Akaashi will do it all to fix it anyway is an absolutely wrong approach. …nah. Nah, that’s stupid. Akaashi is blunt, right? He would say it straight out and nag about it until it’s solved, Akaashi wouldn’t swallow it until it bursts out. …right? 

Ah fuck! Bokuto slams the wall again, slips and tears his skin at a joint between the tiles. It’s not bleeding, just somewhat scraped, but still it makes him hiss. That and these disgusting splotches, they make him sick. He doesn’t need these right now! What must Akaashi be thinking when he sees his hands like that? Probably that Bokuto had another rant and Akaashi will think that he has torn the flat apart when he sees the tear. Hopefully Akaashi doesn’t. 

He gets up and sighs, starts to wash his hair and wonders what time it is. Will he be in time to buy new picture frames? What kind of frames does Akaashi like? They never talked about interior aesthetics, Akaashi is the one doing it and Bokuto sees that it looks neat, but has no sense for details. He could pin the pictures to the wall for now and go buy them together with Akaashi. 

As he thinks these things his fingers dig into his strands and tugs to remind himself he plans to stop it all. If Akaashi hears this it will be alright. He bets Akaashi’s only need is to be safe and he’s stoic enough to brush it off and agree. The thought hurts so bad, but this is what is best, he’s sure. 

His eyes hit Akaashi’s body sponge that’s made of synthetic net fibres and takes it up. Usually Bokuto doesn’t use it and only takes his hands to apply and wash off the shower gel, but he wants to feel a little bit like Akaashi, so he grabs it to inspect. First he turns off the shower and takes some soap. How do you even use it? Like a normal sponge? Do you apply the soap on your skin first and then scrub over, or do you squeeze it into the sponge and foam it up? He opts to go for the latter way of doing it, guessing it can be done either way and wonders how Akaashi does it all the time. Instinctively he uses Akaashi’s shower gel too and pours a good amount in it. As it’s done he sets the bottle back and starts to knead the sponge between his fingers. It foams up so fast that it’s making Bokuto hoot in joy. This is fun! He wants to foam it up and make a white fluffy pile and drown Akaashi in the scented cloudy cleanliness! 

…oh. Yeah, sure. Akaashi. That is until Akaashi agrees to the break up. 

His head shakes violently. He doesn’t need to break up with Akaashi if he gets his life in check! He’ll promise he will never do this again and that is the solution! He just needs an outlet! Shit, there it is again, the tension that wrecks his mind. The sponge goes over his skin and rubs roughly. It doesn’t feel as good as his own hands on his body. Usually Bokuto likes it to touch himself. Once in a while he pays attention to the feeling too. When his slippery fingers roam along his chest and brush his nipples. It’s pleasant to explore yourself while getting clean, feeling all the strings and muscles beneath, and the smooth skin slowly getting clean. He drops back on his knees and sighs as the sponge runs along his neck, head stretched far to reach it all. A gasp escapes his throat, his second hand already busy to go down. Yes, the agitation has made it tingle and awake, it’s halfway stiff as his fingers glide along. The sponge drops and he leans back against the wall. 

“Aah… ‘kaashi, that feels good”, he gasps and grabs himself to give a pump. A smirk appears on his face and he strokes it once again. The other hand gets up to tweak a nipple, but it always slips out between his fingers for he is too soapy as to get a proper hold. He wishes it’s Akaashi to touch him now. Akaashi’s hand and Akaashi’s breath. It’s Akaashi’s scent around him, the strongly perfumed shower gel. The moaning gets louder. It feels good! It’s running back and forth, in circles. All the thoughts and hopes. There’s this one thing they haven’t done. He wants Akaashi to be on top for once. 

A knock on the bathroom door makes him jolt. Who the fuck has a key to their flat? Did he forget to lock the door last night? The door opens and Bokuto turns the shower off. “I’m home” an all too familiar voice announces. Bokuto rips the shower curtain aside so harsh that one of the rings securing the curtain to the pole breaks. The elder’s stare is wide in disbelief. “I thought I pick you up at noon!”, he exclaims. “Wait, what time is it?” 

Akaashi chuckles and bends down to pick up half of the broken curtain rings. “About 11. I got my results earlier.” His dark eyes rise from the object and he gives Bokuto a knowing smirk. “You use my shower gel”, he teases, recognising that scent anywhere. Then Akaashi’s eyes drop. The younger tries to keep his expression in check, but it doesn’t work. “Wash up, I wait in the living room. Oh, and Kou? Don’t get off. I want it hard today.” He winks and is gone from the room as fast as he has appeared. All Bokuto can do for now is simply stand there and stare at the closed door. Oh fuck, Akaashi has caught him masturbating.

He cleans up in the speed of light. Akaashi doesn’t wait two minutes. As Bokuto enters the living room, it’s with a towel around his hips and, mind you, he wears the fluffy robe for once to hide his body. Akaashi sits on the couch and places his report in a dark blue folder. It’s where he keeps his medical records. The fact how thick it is is a little bit unnerving to Bokuto. Akaashi must sense the elder’s distress and pats the spot beside him. A business card falls off the table. Bokuto approaches and picks it up curiously. “Support Centre for Victims of Abuse?”, he asks. Did Akaashi turn his back on Bokuto after all? The anger flares up again, so he rips this shitty card in half. “It’s not like that”, Akaashi soothes. “They forced it upon me just in case after I turned down their offer for psychological support frequently. I kept telling them that our relationship is good, but they don’t believe it.” 

“Do you believe it?”, Bokuto presses aggravated. It doesn’t seem to click for Akaashi, he simply returns his look with a lost and clueless expression. “Believe what?”, the black haired asks sceptically, not really sure anymore if he really wants Bokuto to sit beside him right now. “What do you think?! If our relationship is good! Do you believe it?” There’s a look of hurt and disgusted shock in Akaashi’s features. What the fuck is Bokuto doubting now? “Obviously?! Do you think defending our relationship in a fucking hospital is a joke to me?” A wild, denying hand gesture of Bokuto causes the frustrated Akaashi to fall silent. Instead Bokuto speaks up again. “About that, we need to talk anyway. We need to stop this, what we do is sick.” 

This time it’s Akaashi snapping once again. He throws the folder into a corner and rises up. “I swear to everything I hold dear, Koutarou, if you break up with me, you won’t leave this home alive!” 

“I didn’t say a single word about breaking up!”, Bokuto barks back enraged. “But yeah if you’re willing to understand it that way, fine! Grab your things and move back home!” 

“I AM home, what the fuck!?” Akaashi kicks the table and makes it fall. Only a step back saves Bokuto’s toes from getting smashed. “Don’t forget who started this! This was your idea! And now you make me pay for it just because /you/ can’t take that I ended up in the hospital? That’s no big deal to me! It’s not the first time you did hit to get me there!” 

“Exactly!”, Bokuto interferes, voice deafening, yet cracking. “Exactly that’s my point! It’s not the first time! And it is a fucking massive deal for /me/!” 

Akaashi stares in shock. Bokuto swallows, feeling guilty. There. He said it. It is a big deal to him. A sigh lets Bokuto’s eyes dart up. Akaashi runs a hand through somewhat messy hair. He hasn’t washed it this morning, it’s obvious. The cute whirls his hair do look adorable. So Akaashi has walked home with bed hair, yes? Bokuto would have preferred to pick Akaashi up himself to be with him during it. 

“You want Mercy?”, Akaashi asks quietly. Bokuto waves off. “Yeah. Basically yeah, but not with the code words. They were a bad idea…” Akaashi hums. “Because they give us access to what we want without talking our feelings out?” In turn the elder shrugs. “Pretty much I guess. I can’t say things the way you can. I don’t wanna look like a girl to you, ‘kaashi. All I want is to give you what you want.” 

“You are aware that you give the code words to me to choose, and not the other way around, yes?” Akaashi’s voice is soft and he tries to pick up the table again. Bokuto is right there for his aid and heaves from the other side. “So what?”, Bokuto asks confused, eyes fixed on the edge of the table, careful not to drop it. He stills at Akaashi’s reply. “It means I am the one who can’t talk about my feelings. Not you.” 

The table drops back in its feet. It’s still out of place, but the two young men just stare at each other in silence. Is Akaashi willing to take the blame all to himself? Million thoughts race through Bokuto’s head as he stares into Akaashi’s eyes. He sees the purple mark on the cheek from Bokuto’s most frequent slap, and he sees the bruises at his neck from the latest choke. He sees scratches and fingerprints embedded into Akaashi’s arms that peek out from beneath the short sleeves of his t-shirt. This isn’t normal, Bokuto tells himself. This isn’t normal and it needs to stop. His eyes attach to a patch at the crook of Akaashi’s neck. The taste of blood returns on his tongue as he remembers breaking the skin. That had thrown him into a godforsaken frenzy. Everything last evening has been about utterly conquering Akaashi without the slightest consideration. 

Akaashi lowers himself back to the couch and pats the spot beside himself again. “Come here”, he orders. It makes Bokuto shiver. Yes, he wants to obey. He wants to talk it out. So Bokuto wiggles a bit, then rushes to Akaashi’s side and clings to his arm. “Can I see the report? I wanna know what they say.” 

“I can summarise for you”, Akaashi offers gently. “Because I don’t know how long it takes to get the medical reports back in order, so I guess it’s easier that way.” Bokuto’s eyes follow Akaashi’s gesture to a corner where the broken folder sits. Countless sheets are spread along the region. Without waiting for an answer Akaashi begins. “Basically the head injury has nothing to do with what happened. I was really surprised you even witnessed that, I was sure you were so deep in your mood that you haven’t realised.” He swallows nervously and touches Bokuto’s hand shyly. His eyes avert the other’s as he continues. “I was so happy to hear that you do pay attention to what happens to me when you’re like that. I always thought you do it blindly.” It hurts Bokuto to hear that. That’s not what he wanted Akaashi to believe. The voice keeps on, despite Bokuto’s hesitation. “What actually happened is a mix of bad circumstances. The night before you kicked me, remember? The day before yesterday. It upset my stomach. And when you bit me yesterday you simply squished a crucial nerve a bit too hard. It’s like when you bit my neck, remember? I blanked out that day too.” It earns Akaashi a huff from his partner. “Yeah, I remember. That was the first time I sent you to the hospital. You had no feelings in your entire side anymore.” 

Akaashi gives him a gentle bump with his shoulder. “It was a bit dull, that’s all. It’s no big deal, really.” Akaashi ignores the huff coming from Bokuto who clearly has complaints about Akaashi playing it all down as it is, but the younger continues nevertheless. “So my body was not cool with the squished nerve and my circulation gave out. The whole thing yesterday and actually since quite a bit kept me stressed. With my stomach upset it caused me to throw up. That’s how the doctors have explained it to me. It’s noth-“ 

“Just… stop. I don’t want to hear it’s nothing. Do you remember how you used the Whip code word on me and actually sent me to the hospital? What would you say if I’d say it was nothing?” 

“You never said it was nothing”, Akaashi replies reluctantly. That topic gets him nervous. Bokuto simply nods. “It was heavy, but what would you say if I’d claim that it was nothing? Just curious, is all.” 

Akaashi takes a deep breath. “It wasn’t nothing and you never said it. So we’re done here, I need to cook or else we’ll-“ A firm grip on Akaashi’s upper arm stops the nervous man. “Sit down, ‘kaashi”, the elder urges. Akaashi freezes into place, he’s half stood up, knees still bent awkwardly. It looks like someone has used a pause button on a hypothetical remote control for Akaashi. The black haired’s fingers tremble and his palm becomes sweaty. A tender tug makes him flop back into the cushion and Bokuto leans against him. Yes. That was the nature of “mercy”. They talk it out to the very bitter end. Something both of them hate doing, so it’s hard on Akaashi too. It’s even harder on Akaashi than it is on Bokuto, for Bokuto is known to be blunter anyway. 

“I just want to forget that day, okay?”, he finally states. “I deserve every single thing you do to me. Do you have any idea how shaken to the core I was when you asked me the day before yesterday, if I want to opt for Whip?” 

Strong arms wrap around Akaashi and they squeeze. They squeeze comfortably. “If you want to take control from time to time, you can just say so”, Bokuto mutters against his neck. “Maybe I want you to take control too and-“ 

Suddenly a violent shove against Bokuto’s face cuts him off and Akaashi tries to leave the scene. Bokuto lashes out to catch him by the shirt. “Babe, I’m not mad! Come on! I really want to work on us. I’m not cool with how we are right now!” 

“Then break up with me!”, Akaashi snarls defensively.

“So you’d rather break up than sort it out?!”, Bokuto barks upset. Akaashi grits his teeth and tugs at Bokuto’s persistent hand on his shirt to get the fucking fist unclutched. “I don’t care what you think about that! I don’t want to touch that topic anymore, I’m out!” Bokuto growls annoyed and tugs at the shirt’s hem. Akaashi’s half turned stance is not enough to support his balance properly. The tug makes him stumble dangerously. As the corner of the couch table gets dangerously close he clutches his eyes shut, fearing he’ll get it at his temple as he falls. 

The impact never comes. 

Akaashi exhales shakily and reluctantly opens his eyes. He is in Bokuto’s protective arms. His mind is still set into terror mode as he keeps repeating the last few moments in his head, over and over. Bokuto has caught him in time. “Babe, I hate it when we quarrel. I really want to be honest here and put an end to what we do. But not to us, you know? Can’t we be without the constant… thing? That started so harmless. I really want to backtrack where we went wrong and fix it up.” 

Akaashi sighs in Bokuto’s arms and snuggles up against the warm, protective chest. He feels like he’s in a secure bubble. “But I like it when you vent on me… It’s like you get me off my high horse when I fail.” Bokuto scoffs. “That doesn’t make sense. You’re not on a high horse when you think you failed something. You’re beating yourself up over it and get quiet.” 

Akaashi shrugs. Of course Bokuto wouldn’t understand. So he gives up before further tries. His body moves to get away, but the hug is way too firm, Bokuto puts him right back to where Akaashi needs to be right now. The sigh coming from Akaashi is a sign of defeat. His mouth opens but the words won’t form. There is no explanation. There is too much to clarify, and many of these things are rooted so deep that he can’t name them anymore. They sit in his subconscious and nag. They have turned into his personality and into dreadful feelings that well up like nausea when the triggers happen. They are shapes and shadows, nothing words can tell. 

“Come on”, Bokuto urges quietly. “I’m here to listen. I won’t go anywhere. Even if I don’t understand, I feel with you. I told you that. I pick up your feelings when you talk. I promise. And I’ll meet them. I promise.” His lips land on Akaashi’s hair and Akaashi hears him kiss. Bokuto is an idiot. Eventually Akaashi shakes his head. He can’t explain what has no capacity to be wrapped into words. 

Bokuto scoffs. He takes it for recalcitrance. “I’m here for you now. Just try!”, he begs. It is so simple. They have come so far, all Akaashi needs to do is say it, that can’t be so difficult now can it? “Come on, ‘kaashi, I can’t help if you won’t talk to me!” Akaashi clenches his teeth and he exhales restrained. Again he shakes his head, the stress slowly taking over. He can’t be pushed, that is not fair! He’s cornered and feels threatened! But Bokuto just holds on. He keeps him where he is and Akaashi has no place to flee. The chest of his partner is so firm and it’s so warm, it’s like a the bastion in where Akaashi loves to hide. But right now it traps him in and all the demons crawl from hell to take Akaashi down. 

Akaashi tugs at the arms wilder than before. Bokuto raises his brows and checks on Akaashi. For that he lets go just for a second to catch a glimpse of Akaashi’s face. The features that he meets are cramped to panic and inexplicable pain. “Do your wounds hurt?”, Bokuto tries carefully. “Did I hold you wrong?” It’s all Bokuto can come up with to explain. He has no idea how terrifying it is for Akaashi to meet his feelings that make him go insane. Instead Akaashi wants to and read a book to shut them up. Or maybe train his tosses, but the wrist won’t let him yet. Something that can suck his whole attention in, just so there is no way his hauntings are louder than his focus. He connects no memories with them. With the hauntings that is. They merely exist, have gently pried into his life over time. They have no roots and no origin he thinks. They are simply with him for the purpose of existing. It’s in his head and it’s fatal for it makes him do things he hates. 

“Pain”, Akaashi pleads all of a sudden. Bokuto tilts his head. “Hey, ‘kaashi. If there’s something wrong, then I-“ 

“Pain!”, the other interrupts hysterically. “Right now! Right now! Do it, come on, just do it! I tell you later, but please do it.” He looks into Bokuto’s eyes sincerely, begging him upright. They crawl up his throat and take his breath. They mustn’t reach his consciousness or he is doomed! 

Bokuto grabs his head and holds it tight to stare into his eyes. Akaashi looks so scared right now. His sweet sweet Akaashi. “I love you, Keiji”, he whispers, eyes sincere. 

Akaashi’s eyes grow wider than they are so far. The pupils contract to small dots. That is the last thing Bokuto sees before Akaashi loses it and fights Bokuto’s grip like mad. He lashes out and pulls away, stumbles clumsily and just wants to leave the place. It happens so unexpected that even with his strength Bokuto can’t hold his lover into place as the slender figure storms out the room. 

“Akaashi!”, Bokuto roars and runs right after. He finds Akaashi shaking as he rattles at the entrance door. It’s locked, Akaashi always locks the door and then pulls off the key. It’s the few seconds that Bokuto needs to catch up before Akaashi realises his mistake and reaches for the bundle. 

Then Bokuto is behind him. He holds both wrists securely and holds them against the door, his whole body covering Akaashi’s. “Tell me”, Bokuto insists pleadingly. Akaashi just slumps against the door and sighs. He’s pinned here, exposed to face it. This flat has become the housing of his nightmares. Bokuto digs too deep in his soul, he won’t like what he finds. Akaashi wants it buried for all eternity, doesn’t want to associate anything with these things that lurk underneath. A deep breath grounds him a bit. He is Akaashi Keiji. He likes to socialise, but prefers to stick to superficial topics. He is snarky when he needs to be and enjoys pointing out other people’s flaws. He admires great appearances and even greater reputations. Perfection comes from pretence, not from a deep and complex personality. He is Akaashi Keiji, he needs to perform best and that is all that counts. Failure is no option for failure invalidates the justification of existence in a society built on perfection. He is Akaashi Keiji and he is perfect. He scores in volleyball by deciding on the tosses. He scores in exams because he knows how studying works. It is easy. You read and you comprehend, remember and put it on display. He is Akaashi Keiji, his scores are flawless everywhere and his body is cared for dutifully. He is perfect and nothing breaks him down. Nothing ever breaks him down. 

“Kou…”, he cries helplessly, so pitifully and so imperfect. “Can’t you break me down? Please, just give me one more Pain… Just one more…” He hates to beg. But if something is strong enough to pry though the surface of what he is, it’s Bokuto. It’s Bokuto alone. 

“Sorry, ‘kaashi. I won’t do that anymore.” 

A sob rips through the entrance hall. Akaashi’s tears can’t stay inside.


	8. Inversion

Akaashi is fast asleep. The overpowering of his emotions has cost him energy way above the resources his body was able to offer. Incomprehensible mumbling and sobbing hasn’t helped neither Akaashi nor Bokuto, however the younger’s emotions have been allowed to flow freely. Bokuto has welcomed them all, so very much to Akaashi’s further distress. 

The third year doesn’t understand the situation, he simply tags along and acts according to what he considers to be a genuinely upright way to help. That is among the reasons why he fights his own sluggishness beside a deadly exhausted Akaashi and keeps himself awake to be there should his partner need him. 

Currently Akaashi doesn’t wear any clothes. Usually none of them goes to bed naked if there isn’t a particular reason including mature content, however after Akaashi’s struggles the younger’s knees have given out. At that time when the pinned body got heavy beneath his grip, Bokuto had different worries than maintaining set dress codes. With weight of a neatly grown maturing male body slumping into him, the elder’s main impulse consisted of removing all the confining layers that might trap in the gorgeous body. So this is why after carrying him to bed Bokuto has undressed the drained, halfway passed out man gently. With Akaashi this much at his mercy, Bokuto has been extra careful, and oh so slow, explaining every little thing he was doing to soothe Akaashi’s nerves. Thinking back about it, Bokuto considers it one of their most intimate moments, repeatedly asking for consent, frequently checking on him and exploring heart breaking reactions to gentleness.

Still impressed by how lost Akaashi can seem, Bokuto decides to spoon up behind his partner. A big warm palm lands on the side of Akaashi’s ribcage, ready to smooth it along the elegantly curved line from ribs to hips throughout the dipping valley of his waist. To his surprise the cold body has warmed up by now, the pale skin burning even against Bokuto’s own well-tempered hand. His chest presses against Akaashi’s back, his nose nuzzles into his nape, kissing the bruised and crusted spot with butterfly kisses. The body before him doesn’t show any reaction, the subtle rising and lowering of shoulders comes with the steady rhythm of relaxed sleep. Knowing this doesn’t stop Bokuto from wanting to offer more to Akaashi. More love and more affection too. It doesn’t go through the thick skull crowned by dually coloured hair. Nothing makes sense to him. Not the demands for pain, nor the obvious guilt Akaashi feels. Neither does the panic he sees when he tells Keiji how much he loves him.

Despite the body’s heat Akaashi seems lifeless and immobile. If it weren’t for the soft sounds that come with the even breath, Bokuto would sincerely consider calling an ambulance once again. His posture shifts a bit and the kisses continue, along the nape and over the side of Akaashi’s neck, beside the ear and over to the junction where the shoulder connects with his elegantly swan like neck. So long and thin and flexible, Bokuto loves to kiss it up and down, enjoys the taste and scent. This spot too feels so insanely warm. It’s heat Bokuto wants to enforce it sincerely, so he keeps his sleeping beauty warm and covered. His hand is still busy caressing Akaashi, the way the other’s waist dips beneath his strokes turns him on, it’s one of his favourite parts about Akaashi. Not that the black haired is considerably broad, but around the waist he gets so slender it reminds Bokuto of a girlish trait. 

His lids begin to feel heavy from a sleepless night, the drooping becomes unavoidable. However he feels like it’s a crime to fall asleep, he wants to be awake when Akaashi wakes, wants to hold him when he stirs and craves to be the one holding him down should the panic attack return. 

To his luck, as the kisses continue Akaashi’s body gives a subtle shiver. The owl’s attention perks and the narrowing eyes flutter open further. If his lover is about to wake then there is no chance Bokuto is willing to give in to his humane urges. His hand stops on Akaashi’s hip to steady the body and the kisses come to a halt. His fingers curl around the hipbone that’s enforced by gorgeously developed muscle and string and dips into the lovely crook where Akaashi’s legs begin. That area is a massive turn on for Bokuto as well, the skin here is so smooth and the built here is so firm! He wants to dive beneath the blanket and kiss it, lick it, please it for Akaashi only. 

Thin fingers slide over Bokuto’s. The tips of them are cold, much colder than the rest. The black haired sighs, causes Bokuto to shift with the sudden expansion of Akaashi’s upper body at the inhale. As he exhales Bokuto is there to hold him tight again, wraps his arms around him and pulls him close to offer the gentlest of squeezes. To his surprise Akaashi simply sighs again and arches somewhat into the hug. Instead of greeting his partner, Bokuto resumes the kisses, takes his partner’s motion as an invitation to make use of the newly won access. However the silence is broken sooner than the elder has anticipated. “Honestly?”, he asks, voice weak yet blaming. Bokuto chuckles. He can assume what Akaashi’s complaint is about. So he shrugs it off and gives his neck another kiss. The fingers around the hips get intertwined consensually. Once connected their hands squeeze warm and welcoming. “I know”, Bokuto replies sheepishly, mood still good beside Akaashi’s minor grump. 

“It’s not hygienic”, Akaashi continues. Teeth sink into the black haired’s skin in response. The deed is playful and tender, nothing to inflict pain. Yet still Akaashi shivers and tries to swat him away with his free hand. The motions the younger performs are still obviously sluggish and uncoordinated, despite that Bokuto doesn’t worry too much about it. Instead he loosens the holding hands around Akaashi’s hip area and carefully rolls his partner on his back so Bokuto can crawl on top. 

As their eyes meet, Bokuto finds an incredible amount of doubt and vulnerability reflecting in the emerald green. In this faint light Akaashi looks like forests grow beneath the surface of his eyes, but he never speaks this out. In daylight the eyes have a more bluish hint, reminding him of seaweed swaying in the ocean. Bokuto’s expression twists a bit, turning Akaashi’s features into confusion. The wounded hand reaches out to cup Bokuto’s cheek. 

The elder’s entire body begins to shake with the amount of energy it takes to remain propped up above Akaashi with only one hand, because he needs the second to place it on top of Akaashi’s caring grip. There is silence for a bit as they look into each other’s eyes. Green shifts to worry. It is an unfair look, Bokuto thinks. Akaashi shouldn’t be the worried one right here. 

Eventually Bokuto’s hand returns to the matrass to regain proper balance and support. As his steadiness is back, so is his determination to pamper Akaashi a little bit. “I knew you were going to say that.” Bokuto lies down on his side, snuggled close to Akaashi and his fingers play with the wild strands poking into all directions. Akaashi looks so untamed, he loves it to the core. The smile tugging at Bokuto’s lips is genuine. Akaashi gives him a tender snip against the forehead, indicating nonverbally that he thinks Bokuto is a dork. It rips a giggle from the third year. “Actually I anticipated it”, the owl corrects himself. They move closer to each other, Akaashi willingly turning on his side to face Bokuto. It is Akaashi’s hand now that rests on Bokuto’s hip. To mirror the intimate touch Bokuto does the same for Akaashi. Despite the warmth coming with the moment, Akaashi is incapable of looking into Bokuto’s eyes right now. They feel so close that Bokuto considers their hearts are touching, he can feel it all. They are so close and they are so perfect. Yet Akaashi still maintains his walls, he’s cautious even now. 

“Keiji…” His voice is a whisper. In response Akaashi’s eyes glide closed, switching from staring into the void somewhere around the area of Bokuto’s collarbones to staring into black that is the inside of his eyes. The inside of his mind. “Don’t”, Akaashi orders firmly. Quietly. To express his support and love for the other Bokuto gives the hip a gentle squeeze. Akaashi leans in to find protection in the crook of Bokuto’s neck. It’s not like usually. The skin has a faint scent of his own shower gel. Right now Akaashi would prefer a more natural scent. Something that engulfs him that is only the Ace, not a trace of Setter mixed in. And yet the warmth is enough to make him relax. His mind is about to fade again. 

“Keiji”, Bokuto repeats. The fingers along the elder’s hips twitch, then dig into the skin, warning him. “Keiji”, he hisses again. Low-key struggles begin in muscular arms. Luckily Bokuto considers himself confident enough to continue. “It’s okay, Keiji”, he says calmly. “I got you. I’m right here.” To enforce his words he kisses the top of Akaashi’s hair and takes a deep breath. The faint smell of disinfectant still lingers there. Maybe he should ask Akaashi if he wants to wash him together. Remove all traces, do a proper bath and aftercare, a massage and ointment like they occasionally do. However right now it doesn’t seem like Akaashi wants to do anything despite existing here in peace and quiet. The soothing words that Bokuto is here, that he got him, seem to have enough impact to stop the resistance once again. 

Carefully Bokuto raises one hand, slow and steady so he doesn’t catch Akaashi off guard. He keeps his strokes upwards tight and firm to avoid any teasing, wants to convey grounding security instead. It works, Akaashi exhales happily and snuggles closer. It is the opposite of what Bokuto wants though. The force he applies to Akaashi is gentle as he pries him away. “Look up to me, Keiji”, he whispers. Akaashi still doesn’t like his first name to be used. It is so intimate and invading. It is like Bokuto has become family, has become close enough to know him best. The thing about this is, that it is not the case. Bokuto doesn’t know him, doesn’t figure him out after all this time. Does Bokuto have the right to use his first name? 

To his own surprise Akaashi follows the plea nonetheless. Eyes are narrowed in suspicion but he doesn’t pull away. There is no place to escape to, should he even try to bail he knows Bokuto’s grip would close him in and force him to face the love. Fingers tilt Akaashi’s chin upwards, steadies it into place. For once Bokuto is silent, instead Akaashi speaks. “Kou, I don’t want to…”

Despite having finished what he wants to say, Bokuto’s thumb moves up to stroke along the lips. Instinctively Akaashi’s eyes close at the intimate gesture and kisses the thumb moving from side to side. His tongue dips out between the lips to lick it. Instead Bokuto’s hand shifts up to invade the mouth with his fingers. It takes Akaashi exactly one second to realise something about Bokuto’s skin is off and he pulls back to give it a glimpse. “Sorry. Too much?”, Bokuto asks softly, the itchy splotches forgotten over how tired he feels. Akaashi gives the older a tender smack on the shoulder. “Let go for a second and let me see.” There’s reluctance on Bokuto’s side. “Not going anywhere?”, the muscular boy elicits curiously. In turn he gets a stronger smack. “Lean up and let me see.” 

Although Akaashi sounds genuine Bokuto takes his time, stalls a bit to confirm there is sincerity behind the plans Akaashi has. For a few moments they look into each other’s eyes. Akaashi probably knows it better than the other, but Bokuto picks up vibes quite fast and is influenced easily. Right now all the vibes Bokuto catches are honest concern and the plan to look, not to escape. Trusting his gut feeling Bokuto lets go, trusting his partner not to turn his back on him. However that is exactly what Akaashi does. The stringy body turns away, so a firm grip is there to keep him into place. Akaashi winces for the fingers clutch into a bruise. “Where are you going?”, the owl demands with a voice harsher than intended. Akaashi throws a glimpse over his shoulder. “Turning on the nightstand light so I can see.” Quickly Bokuto’s fingers let go of the bruised spot. “Oh…”, he answers a little flustered. Staying true to his words Akaashi actually leans over to turn on the small victorian styled lamp adorning the nightstand. Then he sits up, getting into a yoga seat with his legs crossed. The blanket falls off him smoothly. Bokuto can do nothing but stare. Keiji is so beautiful, silhouette so faintly lit contre-jour. He sees the spiky untamed hair and sees the graceful limbs move with unmatched elegance. From the bottom of his heart Bokuto wants to tackle this beauty down and ravish it. He is his. Beyond belief, Bokuto is so lucky, this man is his! The elder is so dumbstruck he forgets what this is about. 

“Move over.” Akaashi’s words are cool and tender, expecting immediate obedience nevertheless. The compliance is instant. Bokuto too leans up and turns to activate the bed light, offering a better source of light. Then he crawls over sloppily to join Akaashi’s side. The grip on Bokuto’s hand is strong, yet full of concern as the hand is taken up. 

At the sight of nasty skin Akaashi lets go as if he is stung by a wasp. “What did you do?!”, he exclaims shocked. Bokuto shrugs. “It just appeared and it itches like crazy. I don’t know.” To demonstrate how serious he is about his statement, Bokuto begins to scratch the back of his reddened hand with tiny blisters speckled. Not wanting to see this Akaashi reaches forward to grab both wrists to pull them apart in concern. “Did you see a doctor about it? This rash looks horrible! And you don’t think twice and put those fingers in my mouth!” 

“I also touched you with these hands on countless spots”, Bokuto deadpans affronted. It sends a disgusted shiver down Akaashi’s spine. “Go to a pharmacy and get an ointment for this!”, Akaashi orders, ready to leave the bed to take a shower and to brush his teeth. He feels filthy. What if this is contagious he wonders. The imagination that his own skin might become like this sends a crawling sensation down his system. Gooseflesh spreads along his entirety. Bokuto just watches in disbelief. “Now?!”, he asks surprised. Akaashi throws him a death glare. “Yes. Now. Look up pharmacies with night duty and get this treated instantly, I don’t want to see it! I don’t want this to touch me either!”

“Don’t be so particular about it, ‘kaashi!” It offends Bokuto to a certain extend. He doesn’t like the way Akaashi bosses him around about it. But the black haired waves it off. “I saw they’ve reddened when you helped me lift the table earlier, but this got worse. Don’t waste time or it might increase.” They stare at each other for a moment, Bokuto still not sure if he comprehends this right. Akaashi basically throws him out for a minor skin reaction? “Babe, it’s not so bad. Come on, I’m tired and I want to cuddle. I- Hey!” A pair of fresh briefs got smacked into Bokuto’s face, followed by a pair of pants. “No discussion. And get gloves too, I don’t want you to touch anything before I don’t know what that is.” 

“In bed you don’t mind stuff that usually makes you puke”, Bokuto mutters aggravated as he steps into his black and chibi owl speckled underwear. It earns Bokuto an extra sharp toss of a folded pullover to his head. Akaashi’s aim is perfect, even with clothes. “If you think I’m over the fact that you made me lick your sweat and snack your nasty laundry then you’re wrong. That revenge is still outstanding. Get dressed before I kick you out half naked as you are!” The socks follow with another throw, those being caught expertly by Bokuto. “I don’t deserve revenge, babe”, he whines while taking the bundled socks apart. “You did it voluntarily, you always do.” 

The last thing Akaashi can throw with justification is a tshirt. He smacks it in his face but this is also caught midair. “Don’t remind me of what you manage to make me do, this is for those moods only. Moving on. Dress and hurry. I need a shower. No. I need a shower and then a bath and probably another shower and half an hour to get my mouth clean again.” He shivers. 

“Come on, I am not that disgusting, am I?” Bokuto really hopes for Akaashi to alleviate the message a bit. The third year is sensitive to praise and even more so to criticism. The deep sigh he gets in response makes Bokuto’s shoulders slump and he accepts defeat as he slips into his socks. “If you wash yourself it won’t change the fact that at your core you’re desiring to break that neatness.” Bokuto gets up and steps into his pants. Akaashi turns to watch him surprised. “I am not that complex”, he replies without a second thought. It makes the owl look up dangerously, golden eyes glistening in the dim shine of two nightstand lights. “You are the most complex person I ever met”, the Ace counters lowly. Akaashi swallows thickly. To avoid thinking about it too much he turns away. “Hurry.” His voice is a mere breath. The way Akaashi rushes out the room tells Bokuto he has hit a nerve. Honesty towards himself is something Akaashi still needs to learn. In the distance Bokuto hears the lock of the bathroom door click shut. Left alone Bokuto decides he wants to focus on what Akaashi might truly want and how to combine it with a sublime curve towards normalisation. 

The deep sigh he breathes out is muffled by the shirt he pulls over his head. In order to stay awake Bokuto needs an energy drink first, leading his first path into the kitchen. A quiet voice in the back of his head asks him if Keiji needs something to treat himself as well. Maybe new patches for the shoulder he muses. And pain killers just in case. The can gets cracked open with a whizzing sound. It’s teeth clattering cold, just like Bokuto likes it. It cools the vegetables too much, if they cook the soup today it will taste like nothing because Bokuto has ruined the ingredients. He wants a second fridge just for the canned drinks. It reminds him, there is something Bokuto still wants to do. So quickly he checks the counter, then the fridge. They miss ingredients, maybe he can come by a convenience store that is still open. With a swift motion he grabs Akaashi’s notepad and the pen right beside it to make a list. First of all fresh vegetables. Cocoa and milk. A line divides the three words from what he wants to buy in the pharmacy. Ointment for his hands, new patches and a disinfecting spray. Also scar reducing ointment for Akaashi. He knows last time Bokuto has asked about it Akaashi had declined, but the worry of remaining traces still sits deep within Bokuto. Maybe he could ask for tea with relaxing ingredients as well. Tea gets on his list. Eggs join his ideas, he wants omurice, but then he scratches it again. Maybe he should take Akaashi out for food instead. But a wash lotion for sensitive skin and new body cream for Akaashi are a good idea. He wants to treat his lover as best as he can to help him feel home. On the very end of it he writes “Something against panic attacks”. Not that he knows what he is looking for, nor if he will get anything without prescription, but the hope doesn’t die without a try. Next time Akaashi loses it he wants to be prepared. If there will be a next time he wants to be the one in control to help Keiji through it all without an escalation and a breakdown. 

Done with the ideas he walks over to the bathroom door. Behind it the sounds of splashing water echoes. To overshadow the noise Bokuto knocks twice, hard and loud. The water stops. “I’m out now. Anything you need? I wanna make a detour to the general store.” 

Bokuto is met with a short silence. “If they have tuna steak, take it. And some fruits. Ah and shaving gel. Thank you.” Before the elder can answer the water is already flowing again. No goodbye. No I love you. Sometimes it is difficult to be with Akaashi, yet Bokuto knows that it’s not meant in a repellent way. He touches the door affectionately and smiles to himself as he depicts a hectically scrubbing Akaashi behind the shower curtain. “Love you” he whispers against the door and turns to leave. His phone glides into his pants pocket, the sweater goes on top and his hair is plucked into a minimally decent shape. The list glides into another pocket and the shopping bag goes over his shoulder. Time to head out.

The night is dark, the air is cool. Bokuto pulls out his phone and opens the browser. A porn from not so long ago is still open in the latest tab and he hurries to open a new one before anybody can see. No people are around, still Bokuto feels a little caught by embarrassment. He leaves the tab open though, saves it for later because it has been a very sexy one. 

In the new browser site he searches up close by pharmacies with night shifts. One at the train station is open, it’s a fifteen minute walk there. On the way back he can take a longer route leading by a small convenience store. Halfway out he remembers the still not finished energy drink sits on the counter. As he turns he can see the light in the kitchen. Akaashi would scold him, by the time he returns Akaashi will have fixed the slight disorder he has left behind. 

During his walk Bokuto thinks about Akaashi a lot. About their relationship and also the nature of Akaashi’s behaviour. It has caught him by surprise that Akaashi actually claims about himself that he is not of complexion when it comes to his character. Truth to be told, Bokuto is intrigued by the Setter majorly because of the fact of how complicated Akaashi is. On the surface the black haired might be a little shallow, but only a little digging reveals how much there is to him.

His head goes left and right to check for any traffic before he crosses the path, then he checks his phone again. Something on his insides tells him that he should call his mother to talk about his insecurities, but it was too late for today. Maybe Kuroo would be still awake, but Kuroo isn’t the type of man he wants to know about the issues they have. Although his mind dismisses the idea his thumb presses the call button. It takes him a deep sigh to endure the waiting. What should he say anyway? Should he hang up? The ringing continues. It flips to voice mail. Frustrated Bokuto ends the call before the recording sound confirms to leave a message. His footsteps halt. Honestly, right now Bokuto prefers the fresh air to collect his senses. Subconsciously his hand touches a scar above his collarbone. 

The phone buzzes and makes a hooting sound of a real owl. It’s Bokuto’s tone for text messages. Kuroo says he’s in the movies right now, he’ll call back once it’s over. That explains a lot, he didn’t expect the cat to sleep at this hour. To indicate that he read the message and waits for the response he sends an emoji and then lowers his phone again to continue his walk undisturbed. All his thoughts still circle around Akaashi, but he doesn’t reach a conclusion. 

When the clock hits 11 pm Akaashi starts to get nervous. He paces up and down, legs wrapped up in stunning black finely woven net stockings with a lace edge at their hems where straps to an equally lacy garter belt are fastened to. Beneath he wears fitting black lace panties with two rows of pearl white glass beads running down the middle. The bowtie at the centre is adorned with a perfectly matching Swarovski crystal. The gloves reaching almost up to his shoulders match the entire stlye beautifully. Even his hair is tamed and all the excess body hair along the legs, crotch, arms, everywhere is all shaved off. Akaashi is ready to welcome Bokuto home, he’s ready for half an hour already. Much longer and the path he walks up and down will start to wear off, leaving his nervousness in clear view. His eyes go back to the wall clock. Half a minute has passed since the last check. The mood he was in is gone now. The pleasant surprise will turn into hell, Akaashi is willing to be mean today.

When he finally hears a faint voice, Akaashi dashes into the bedroom to get ready for his plans. The door is closed and a trace of artificial rose petals lead to the bedroom door. The sheets there are changed to a crimson red and black cotton satin getup that goes well with the young man’s attire. He hears the keys turn and listens closely, takes a pose. Bokuto enters the room and the talk goes on. Bokuto is on the phone. 

“Yeah I just returned. I’ll try. … No it’s dark, I guess Keiji is asleep again. … … … Yes. … … Yeah kinda I suppose?” 

As Akaashi hears the muffled voice, he leans up. With whom is he talking and what is it about? 

“Not really, that scratches all my plans, but I won’t wake him for this. He is really beat. Maybe tomorrow. … … No, I called at school and said that Keiji was in the hospital. I excused him and I said I want to be with him, so I won’t go to class for a few days either. … … … Haha, no, I didn’t ask him. Keiji doesn’t want to miss school, he wouldn’t have consented if I had said I’ll excuse him for a few days. … … … Maybe. If he’s mad then it’ll be my problem tomorrow. … No. You see, it’s not exactly like I’m scared of him anyway. We have weird dynamics, y’know? This feels like a quick escalation, I mean it’s not the first time we went overboard with each other. Just recently Keiji seems more sensitive to things. I blame it on the mass of exams and my overflowing libido that doesn’t allow him too much room to breathe. … … … Don’t get me wrong on that, ‘kaashi goes nuts with me, I just worry I ask too much from him physically. And I don’t know how to ask that he takes over once in a while. Not only because it’s hard on him too if he has to do all the work, but also because he’s kind of frightened. … … Yes. I brought that up. He blames himself so much and refuses to listen. Don’t get me wrong, I love to manhandle him, but a switch of roles or styles would be good once in a while. All we do is the Pain or Game thing. Vanilla isn’t so bad. … … I swear Tetsu, mock me for my soft sides and I invite you over to show you right in front of ‘kaashi what the real deal is. … Are you challenging me? Sounds fun. … Nah, Keiji would probably want to lynch me if I bring you. He doesn’t admit it, but I know he’s jealous. Anyway, I want to store the bought stuff away and then I’ll hit the sack, I’m awake for like one and a half days and I begin to go nuts. … … … Yeah, since Keiji went to the hospital. The whole day at school, then the whole night, then the entire day until now. … You’re right, two days. Anyway. Any longer and I drop on the floor. Thanks for listening. … I don’t know I haven’t checked on him, but everything is quiet, so I am pretty sure he really is asleep. And I’m also sure he’s alright. And once he hears the blisters on my hands are a only rash from the extra strong cleaning shit he likes to buy, then his disgust will be wiped out anyway. … Yeah. Now good night, Tetsu. Gonna text ya when I get up.” 

With that Bokuto hangs up. During the entire talk he has stood in the entrance hall with the lights off to cause as little disturbance for Akaashi as possible. When he turns on the lights and he is greeted with the petals he swallows. Oh Akaashi must have been waiting for him, and Bokuto has wasted so much time on the phone with Kuroo. Now he feels guilty, but it makes him smile. Akaashi is willing to do some efforts for good make-up action. Yet so is Bokuto. He puts the fish into the freezer and the milk into the fridge. To please Akaashi he even turns the setting down to 2 instead of between 3 and 4. That way he can store the fresh vegetables without killing their taste right away. The medical stuff gets sprawled out along the table. He takes the ointment to apply it thoroughly along his hands and pulls white tight gloves on top to protect the cream from getting rubbed off. Two or three days the pharmacist has told him, then the rash should subside.

Carefully he pulls off his shirt and puts it on a stool in the living room. His way to the bathroom leads him past the bedroom door. He is curious but doesn’t want to be too loud, so he enters the bathroom first to brush his teeth and to comb out the last bit of product from his last styling session. 

When he is done he hears the handle of a door being pulled down. Bokuto hasn’t closed the bathroom door, so it can only be Akaashi leaving the bedroom. He looks up and almost chokes on his toothbrush as he stares up and down the gorgeous sight.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Bokuto-san”, Akaashi states lazily. Bokuto spits the minty foam and wipes his mouth with a towel quickly, stressed as to not lose a single second to touch his lover. The fabric gloves make it impossible to feel the heat beneath his fingertips and he whines desperately. Akaashi is so beautiful. Some spots on his skin are red, likely from excessive scrubbing and cleaning. One thing immediately falls to Bokuto’s attention. Akaashi’s lovely treasure trail is gone. Pure nudeness dips into the lingerie! He dies to fall on his knees and to see if Akaashi has bared himself completely. 

“I’m so sorry, I thought you were asleep. Oh my, Keiji. _Keiji_ , you look so _so good_.” 

Akaashi takes a stance so gracious he resembles a statue. His engaged leg secures him upright, the free leg gets stretched out to stroke along Bokuto’s side with the lace. The elder pays almost no attention to what Akaashi says next, all he can think of is grabbing the leg and rubbing his cheek along. 

“You left me waiting for a long time”, the black haired scolds quietly. His leg moves to give Bokuto a gentle smack against the cheek that is so busy cuddling with it. All it does is drawing a moan from the other. He has fallen for Akaashi, admires him from down below and their roles reverse. Akaashi is the god right now, the god of heat and darkness. Bokuto is the candle burning down for him, he is the wax that melts and the fire that enlightens gloom. A melting ghost in between a trail of loosely scattered petals to fulfill the scene.

“Yeah…” He swallows hard and runs a hand through his own hair. “I phoned with Tetsurou. You know that takes us long sometimes.” Displeased with the explanation, regardless the honesty, Akaashi clicks his tongue. “I am in a _mood_ , Koutarou.” He lowers the leg back down and bends at his hips. The long long legs Bokuto sits in front of remain straight. Oh it drives him senseless, Akaashi knows so perfectly what to do and how to move to look indescribable and utterly perfect. The slender fingers of Akaashi’s left hand reach beneath the chin, displaying the bandage well beneath the fingerless lace gloves. A tiny feeling wells up within the elder that this mentioned ‘mood’ has to do with revenge. Things have accumulated recently. 

“Don’t space out on me”, the younger warns smoothly. The smile he offers Bokuto is tender and so fake. It makes Bokuto swallow in return. “Uhm… ‘kaashi. Just to clarify. Is this-“

“ _Yes_ ”, Akaashi interrupts before his partner can speak the code word out loud. This code word has been ugly from the get go, had no sensual sound to it. Only the disgusting violence that came with it. He sees the nervousness flaring up in Bokuto’s eyes, sees the skin run somewhat pale. He senses the fear. The right hand joins the left to get a proper securing hold of Bokuto’s cheeks and he lowers, knees bending outside as he sinks like an erotic dancer down the pole. “I am not blindly enraged like last time. That won’t make it less painful but less risky for you. So, Koutarou.” He licks his lips as he sees Bokuto’s lips part to puff out a shaky breath. It slams an arrogant smirk into Akaashi’s face. “Are you ready for your punishment?”

To be fair, Akaashi is proud how well Bokuto holds out. He is not deaf, he has overheard that Bokuto is awake for two days straight already, it is also evident in his eyes. The deep dark rings below don’t look healthy. Yet Bokuto only swallows another time, closes his eyes and nods. “Not really…”, he mutters, contradicting his motion. Akaashi’s eye twitches impatiently. Bokuto keeps talking. “I mean, I take it, but if you don’t ignore my safe word this time, I would be…” He shrugged helplessly. “Grateful?” At least he tried to explain. Last time had gone so wrong in more ways than they wanted to sum up, but last time had started different to boot, so the chance is good that this time things won’t escalate. The big frame begins to shake though and Akaashi runs his fingers through the hair to calm him a little bit. “You’ll pass out before you can say it.” Bokuto chokes on his own breath. “Not helpful!”, he complains quickly, but a finger rests on Bokuto’s lips to silence him. “Get up. I thought you want me to take control once in a while. If you have faith in me, let me hurt you. Since you don’t do this anymore.” The last sentence is pronounced with such venomous mockery that it makes Bokuto seriously doubt it is a rationally justifiable decision to join in, but Akaashi’s aura doesn’t allow any argument about it. Even though Bokuto is strong enough to put an end to it, he lets Akaashi have his will. When it had started Bokuto’s promise was that he would always offer Akaashi his body to rant on in turn that Akaashi holds out for him. His body is strong. It is Akaashi’s. Maybe this way he can win normality back. 

According to Akaashi’s quietly spoken command Bokuto sheds off everything he wears to kneel in front of Akaashi naked. The lingerie-clad master leads Bokuto into the bathroom and instructs him to sit inside the shower tub and wait. Once gone and returned yet again Akaashi offers Bokuto a sight that makes his stomach grow harder and colder and cramped up with every passing second. 

Ropes. 

A blindfold. 

A spreader bar. 

Razor blades. 

Oh yes, he can see it clearly now. Indeed. Akaashi is in a _mood_.


	9. Reflection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to thank those four wonderful people who bookmarked my story. It has started so weird for me and everything took dynamics I did not expect to happen. It's hard to believe you guys like it so much to bookmark it. 
> 
> Also biggest hugs to iwa_chan_u_boke for being so nice! 
> 
> And thank you to everyone who has left Kudos here. I deeply appreciate your kindness!

Despite everything, Bokuto stays true to his words. Neither is he pleased, nor is he relaxed. Akaashi’s latest true escalation lies so long in the past that Bokuto has lingered in false confidence that it would never happen again. Still here they are, preparing everything. 

He hates to admit this, but the Ace is scared. The thick fingers tremble with unease while his heart races away with pure anxiety. To calm his partner a little bit, Akaashi cups Bokuto’s jaw, cradles it in his smooth and tender hand. Warmth seeps through to Bokuto’s bone. For a moment he allows the faux security to drizzle through and numb his nervousness. The way Akaashi touches him, why does it have to be like this? He’d prefer his junior to be affectionate without the intention of shading over future intentions. As he remembers what the true plans are, he shivers yet again. Teeth clench so tight Akaashi can feel it from the outside. The hand disappears, reduces to slender fingertips to trail from his jawbone back to his ear. Shivers run down Bokuto’s spine in turn, yet the cold feeling stays. The sensation is beyond pleasurable for he knows Akaashi just puts up an act. The greenish eyes shine viciously behind half closed lids. The calm Akaashi radiates does nothing to help Bokuto fall into joy. 

“Akaashi, we-“ 

A single finger drops on Bokuto’s lips instantly, stills them tenderly. Akaashi’s mouth follows up to press a sensual smooch on top of them. It’s not more, no lingering affection, not a proof of love at all. “It’s alright, Bokuto-san”, the younger replies cockily. The reassurance these words are supposed to give doesn’t get delivered. Dread keeps rising within the third year’s stomach, pooling in and lumping cold. Akaashi’s smile is oh so cruel. Cruelly amused, distant and untrue. 

The beginning is still less scary than the elder has anticipated. In spite of the nerve wrecking scheming aura Akaashi emits, his way of skimming along Bokuto’s skin is almost soothing. As the Ace’s eyes fall closed to escape the piercing cold of his partner’s stare he even manages to fluctuate to an inner reality in which everything was fine. It is different to Akaashi’s attempts of detaching when Bokuto gets violent with him, Bokuto tries to turn the situation over in his head to convince himself this is affection, not punishment. 

“Do you wish for the blindfold first, Bokuto-san?” The sleek voice rips him from the deepening focus, his eyes spring open. Since his mind has started to settle for a scenario with candle light in peace and quiet, the bright light reflecting on the white tiles and engulfing the whole room way too much is like a stab of skewers in his eyes as they spring open in reaction to the voice. He hears Akaashi chuckle mildly as he winces in discomfort. The squinting to get used to the light does nothing to him, his brain happy to have drifted off for a moment. Now that he is wide awake again he wonders how much longer he can hold out anyway. 

A hand slides from his ear lower to his chin to tilt it. Bokuto musters great effort to meet the expectant stare. “It would be a hassle for me to have you drop your consciousness before I started. Be my good boy and hold out for me?” Akaashi speaks so casually, drenches his words in honey to make them sweet and thick. However Bokuto knows the difference between the setup and the real deal, is able to distinct the fake from the honesty even in his fuzziest mind. The nod he gives is instinct, not consent. “Do you need me to turn around to tie me, or is above the head good?” He refers to where to put his arms rather than what to do with his body. Akaashi appreciates that Bokuto’s mental participation goes as far as to be concerned about how Akaashi wants it. To reward him he leans in to kiss Bokuto on the lips. This time he allows his lips to linger a little longer, offers Bokuto some emotional attachment before pulling back. “Turn for me. You can kneel sitting as long as your back is up straight.” To emphasise how proud he is of Bokuto’s willingness a free hand roams along his taut shoulders. Bokuto feels the fabric of the lace gloves roll and shift under the strokes. “You can relax for me”, Akaashi soothes quietly. It’s unnerving to Bokuto how calm Akaashi seems. Blindly enraged Akaashi was weak, unfocused and predictable. Cool and collected Akaashi was a monster. 

Obedient as he wants to be in order to keep his partner pleased Bokuto gets up from the tub. The spot where he has been sitting on has adapted to his body temperature. The shift and the new position however send a shiver up his body for he feels the cold again. Akaashi sweeps his flat palm up the firm back and hums, confirming that Bokuto was doing well for him. “Always keep your eyes open. I will not verify, I expect you to obey. Please don’t disappoint my trust, Bokuto-san.” The hand runs up and down the back to relieve some of the tension in the muscles. Then he adds the second hand and runs them up the spine, thumbs pressing on each side of the bones, feeling each vortex. Where the cervical vertebra begins Akaashi’s hands slide apart, running over to the shoulders and down the arms. His fingers curl at the biceps, prying gently. Bokuto doesn’t even think about it as he offers obedience, flexing his arms backwards to where Akaashi’s gentle inductions lead them, keeping them in place as he is moulded like a statue.

Next thing Bokuto hears is a faint rustling. Although he doesn’t dare to turn, he can faintly guess it’s Akaashi looking for the centre of the brought rope. As the noise stops hands reappear. There is no fabric any longer. Bokuto assumes Akaashi has taken the gloves off to have a better perception of what his hands are doing. 

“Are your eyes still open?” Bokuto blinks at the question. Yes they are, but for some reason his focus had completely ceased for a moment, sleeping with his lids lifted. It takes him a bit to comprehend it. That was new to him, being so tired that he forgets to pay attention to his surroundings. Slowly he nods, reconsiders and opts for words instead. “I am.” 

Akaashi stops in his tracks for a moment. Bokuto freezes in turn. He has fucked up something, hasn’t he? “What did I ask you?”, Akaashi pries patiently. Bokuto swallows. “If I am still awake?” The words come hesitant, insecure how right or wrong he is about this. The answer is met with a sigh coming from Akaashi. “Please focus more” is all he says though, allows Bokuto this one mistake. At this point he is generous to Bokuto, he knows. It is all he can do for now, for Bokuto will have no later chance to lose his focus anymore. Bokuto doesn’t know what to answer, so he hums to indicate he has heard and understood Akaashi. 

The rustling continues, the rope is lifted above Bokuto’s head and lowers once again, in plain view of Bokuto for a moment before it sinks to where his chest is. Akaashi follows the curious movement of Bokuto’s head, recognises it as interest in where the rope goes and feels pleased that apparently Bokuto does pay attention again now. 

“Your hands”, Akaashi warns. “Reposition please.” 

It shocks the elder to realise that his muscles have given in subconsciously. He feels so tired it is almost like he loses control over his entirety. In order to be good for Akaashi he tries to find the exact pose from before. It’s enough to make Akaashi moan quietly. “It feels good to have so much power over you”, he purrs rewardingly. Truth to be told, Bokuto actually feels rewarded by that, feels a little better and a tad more eager to keep his concentration upright. 

“Akaashi?” His voice is spilled before he can think about talking. Inwardly he bites his tongue for being this bold. The “Hm?” meeting his nervous question is calming, grounding and so casual. Bokuto wants to melt for this voice, and deep inside he wishes he can get it more often, but not like this. He wants this, but more sensual, with less ill intention roaming within the atmosphere. He desires it to be a deed of love instead. The hesitation lingers for a bit. Akaashi slows, thinks Bokuto is about to drift off again. He’s patient with the other, is ready to listen. 

“Can we keep this gentle?” Bokuto’s voice shakes a bit. “I actually feel good, y’know? I don’t want this to be… Come on, you get what I mean, right? I want this to be good.” 

Akaashi tugs at the rope, pulling the formed loop tighter than was healthy. “I understand you very well, Bokuto-san.” Oh if Akaashi would drop the formality, it would ease the Ace’s mind so much! But apparently Akaashi is far from considering to go easy on him. That much is emphasised by the tug. Not that Bokuto minds, he can take it if it is only now. The only wish remaining in his senses is that Akaashi loosens the ties again before he continues the knotting. To his surprise a finger already digs between the skin and the rope to readjust. “This feels very intimate, doesn’t it?” Akaashi leans forward to blow against Bokuto’s ear playfully. The shiver it wrecks through him leaves Bokuto a little bit unnerved. His frantic nod is the only answer he can give. “You don’t want the intimacy to be spoiled by what I want to do to you, do you?” The whisper is pressed against Bokuto’s ear directly. For a moment Akaashi lets go of the rope, shifts and snuggles up, presses his entire body against Bokuto’s back, grabs his head and forces his lips fully against the ear and just _moans_. The reaction of the tied up is imminent for he is so sensitive he simply moans in return. It’s so sudden, so hot and so threatening! For just a second Bokuto feels the flesh between his legs stir, yet with his body being this exhausted it doesn’t rise. A chuckle follows right into his auditory channel. Akaashi can be such a player and in any other situation Bokuto would welcome it greatly. But not like this. 

“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi’s words continue, still calm and collected, a terrifying contrast to the passionate moan from moments before. “You will beg me to forgive you tonight. And I won’t until you lost your mind.” 

It’s not helpful. Not at all. It’s scary as fuck to say the least, while at the same time it is so weirdly, sickly intriguing! 

Lips run down his throat, ghosting over Bokuto’s pulse and teasing. “Another time. And a different world. And I might love you so genuinely that I would never want to do these things to you, Bokuto-san. But you need to understand me too. You denied me my desires. You left be begging and crying for what I wanted. Instead of giving it to me you held me down and tried to soothe me.” 

At this point Bokuto actually tries to twist his neck enough to get a glimpse of Akaashi. The black haired lets him. “You broke down crying. Do you expect me to hit you when you’re already broken?” 

His answer is fingers around his neck. Bokuto quickly inhales and squints his eyes shut as Akaashi presses middle- and index fingers of both hands right into the vulnerable dimple between his collarbones, cutting off all coherent thoughts as the elder’s mind gets overshadowed by fear. 

“I expect you to hit me when I ask for it, Bokuto-san. I trusted you to always relieve me when I cannot take it anymore. I thought we are a good match, Bokuto-san. You with all your overflowing energy, with me being your capability of relieving it. You make me scared when you do. Genuinely. However it is what I have chosen for myself. Letting it out is your way, taking it in is mine.” The fingers dig a bit deeper, causing a cramped choking sound from the halfway tied man. “And I trusted you to always deliver when I need you to beat my tension out of me. You cannot start a game and change the rules midway, Bokuto-san. That was very inconsiderate of you. And very much unfair, don’t you think?”

The fingers release. Akaashi has gotten his point across, leaving Bokuto wheezing for air, causes him to cough multiple times. His shoulders are slumped forward. The intimacy of the situation is still there, but the aura has changed. Akaashi is mad. Very mad. 

Fingers slide up and down the back of Bokuto’s neck lovingly for a bit, but the other knows better than taking it as an act of apology. “Akaashi. I feel vulnerable right now. I mean it. I am not okay with continuing.” 

Lips find their way to the nape, replacing the fingers. The kisses placed are slow, the lips moving softly. Smooching sounds echo for a bit. As seconds pass, Bokuto feels his mind slipping again, just a little bit. As the warm body behind him withdraws, his awareness returns. The ropes tickle with slight movement as they are taken up. Apparently Akaashi continues without honouring Bokuto’s confession a reply. The elder takes it as a wiser decision not to try again, doesn’t want to piss off Akaashi even further. 

Once the handiwork is done, Akaashi rises from his seat. “Please try to pull your arms from the bindings”, the dark voice orders. It’s a half assed attempt, but that’s enough to prove that there is no escape anyway. It earns him a pleased hum, but Bokuto’s heart is not open for any rewarding noises any longer. He has withdrawn, has a hard time to maintain his senses to begin with, but feels it’s easier to blank out Akaashi’s wrong display of approval. 

He’s tugged at at a knot right in the centre of his shoulder blades, gets drawn upwards. “Up”, Akaashi enforces. Bokuto tries to follow but feels that sometime during the process his legs have fallen asleep. As it takes too long for Akaashi’s liking, the younger clicks his tongue. “Do you really prefer to agitate me this much, Bokuto-san? You tested my patience enough today, don’t you think?” 

“I don’t feel my legs so well”, the owl defends himself quietly. He feels dizzy as he rises his ass from his heels, kneeling upright now. The tingling and crawling of returning sensation makes him feel overly sensitive and slightly aggravated. All he wants to do is sleep. Maybe relieve some tension and then sleep. A blowjob would be so good right now, not to get off, but just to feel some effort, appreciation and pleasure. Getting blown to sleep, getting pleased and love without orgasming. 

Contrasting his wishes the tug on his ties gets harsher. “You are aware I cannot lift you, so I need to rely on your cooperation. I recommend you work with me, or things will get less and less pleasurable with each thing that displeases me.” 

It’s a helpless stumbling. Bokuto really doesn’t feel much in his legs. In return Akaashi clicks his tongue. “Fine. Then I will give you the blindfold first. Keep your head still.” 

Bokuto tries his best to remain upright, back to the kneeling position with straightened thighs to let the blood flow easier. The knee caps press against the sleek surface of the shower tub, feeling uncomfortable. “What do you use?”, the elder asks intimidated, yet curious. His legs shift a bit, moving the knees to a spot that’s still cold to ease the pressure on this bone a bit. Akaashi seems to appreciate the interest though for he cards his fingers through Bokuto’s hair sensually and leaves a tingling sensation along the scalp. “My scarf”, he answers nonchalantly. “The one that’s off limits?”, Bokuto asks in surprise. “Exactly that. This is a rare thing for me, and I do not plan on destroying my experience with you by using something that is not aesthetically pleasing me. Now close your eyes and don’t space out.” 

Doing as instructed the lids fall closed and he tells his partner that he is ready to receive the blindfold now. As soon as the shadows blacken his vision he becomes aware that his balance is somewhat off, that his brain wants to accept the darkness as the relieving allowance to pass out. The feeling is reinforced as the silky texture feels cool and soothing as it blocks more light, darkening the darkness even further. “Focus”, a firm voice orders. Bokuto exhales shakily. Focus is so difficult to maintain. Once the knot is tight, fingers tighten in his hair, tugging upwards once again, ripping him from the overwhelming sensation of fading away. “Up. Now.” 

It is the first time Bokuto understands why Akaashi usually doesn’t talk when blindfolded. The concentration it takes to maintain balance is difficult enough as it is, speaking would distract his hearing, his feeling for the surroundings. Right now he has to rely on every indication he can get in order to establish at least a little awareness of his environment. It is not that he doesn’t trust Akaashi to lead him properly, it is just that _right now_ he doesn’t really trust Akaashi to do just that. He fears to be let go of, to be helpless and left as he is just to make him go through some horrors of deep vulnerability. So he musters all his strength and willpower to ignore the still continuing tingling of numbed legs and rises to his feet. The tiredness fogs his motions, dulls his moves. Akaashi keeps him from swaying simply by holding him up the hair. “Good boy.” The praise doesn’t help Bokuto in the slightest. His careful steps make him feel like an idiot and the dizziness that keeps rocking his mushy brain back and forth like a child in a cradle are doing the rest to him. “I want to stop”, he tries. It is obvious that Akaashi is unreachable. “Turn, just like this. I got you, all you need to do is work with me. If you fall, I will not be strong enough to catch you. Right now it is your responsibility to stay safe, alright Bokuto-san?” 

The exhale the elder gives at that is shaky, short and stressed. He wants to stop! He wants to drop back on his knees and craves to be untied, craves to be allowed in their bed. He would do anything just to please Akaashi, just to make this stop. He’d stay awake much longer just for him and would worship him throughout the entire night. 

A guiding hand appears at his hip. “Down. Slowly. Just follow my lead. You face forward now, I can see you perfectly. I want you to sit down for me, legs stretched out this time. You will do this for me, right?” Despite it is phrased like a question, the last sentence is anything but. It doesn’t leave room for argumentation, doesn’t _honestly_ ask for confirmation. In fact what Akaashi says at this point is “You will do this for me.” And nothing else. So Bokuto does. He hasn’t really noticed that he has already turned, must have done it while spaced out, but as he slowly slides down again he feels that his stance really must have changed. The gentle breeze hits him differently, the hand on his hip is clearly coming from his front, not from behind him anymore. In an odd way this still has a sensual vibe to it as he is guided down. “Can we do that again when you’re in a good mood?” Bokuto’s voice is hopeful and he smiles sheepishly. The air gets filled with an awkward hesitation. It’s surprisingly easy for Bokuto to catch on the emotions coming with the silence considering he cannot even see Akaashi’s reactions. But he feels the fingers become relaxed at his hip, takes it for a response of pleasant surprise. Akaashi exhales slowly, seems to be pondering deep in thought. It is not the fast huffed annoyed exhale his partner does when he is at the edge of his nerves, neither is it the hasty gasp of surprise or shock. Akaashi is seriously thinking about it. 

“Keiji, I-“ A hand gets slapped on his mouth faster than he can comprehend, silencing him with such brute force that he slips and hits his back at the handle for the water temperature. It hurts him as it hits a sensitive spot. It’s difficult, but the balance maintains. As soon as his stance is secured again, Bokuto takes his hazy attention to channel it right to Akaashi again. The ragged, flat breath that Akaashi tries to cover is betraying him. The usage of his first name has caught him off guard, has probably hit him in a bad moment. He assumes that Keiji too feels vulnerable in this moment. The responsibility is great. Though Bokuto doesn’t know he figures that deep down Keiji is afraid of the situation they are in. It doesn’t feel safe and the display Akaashi sets up, of control and mental collection, is presumably as fake as it is displeasing for both of them. To show that he’s not mad and still ready to take it all obediently his lips tilt a bit beneath the palm and he kisses it affectionately. To his surprise Keiji lets him and doesn’t pull away immediately. As the kisses collect and become more loving, including the tongue, the hand retreats, leaving Bokuto’s mouth damp from breath and spit. It is back. The sensuality. 

“Please guide me down”, Bokuto whispers, ready to finally sink into the demanded position. The hand returns and they are silent as it happens. Eventually Bokuto’s firm buttocks touch the tub, his back rests against the tiled wall, chest pushed out from the arms behind his back that force his spine into an arch. “I’m tired”, the tied man whispers, words becoming slurry. He feels Akaashi move, feels the warmth radiating from him as he seems to lean above him. 

A yelp ripples from the bigger male, so pitched it was likely to be the unmanliest thing he has ever done. Akaashi doesn’t react to the sound at all for he has anticipated it to come. The shower is turned on, cold water rains down on the naked body that is merely clad by ropes. Bokuto’s tension is beautiful to Akaashi. The muscles strain so beautifully as the entirety of Bokuto tries to adapt to the cold rain that makes those pretty rivulets dance down his face. The black silken scarf is soaked in no time and if he didn’t know any better he would think Bokuto is crying, creating all the watery strings along his cheek himself. It’s to keep him awake and aware. The sounds are a welcome distraction. It doesn’t feel as intimate anymore with the silence gone and the trickling sounds slamming an auditory border between them. It’s relieving for Akaashi for he hasn’t been sure if he is able to pull through with the silence. Not after Bokuto has called his name like that. Like he is about to say something dumb that touches Akaashi’s heart. Thinking about it the younger reaches up to touch his own chest. He feels touched nevertheless. In a very uncomfortable way. Like Bokuto has learned how to reach out to places that Akaashi wants to remain hidden.

For a moment his eyes dart to the spreader bar. Should he ask Bokuto if Bokuto is willing to keep his legs spread on his own accord? If he said yet he still wouldn’t trust his boyfriend to comply throughout the entire ordeal. Akaashi’s eyes follow the trail of tile junctions until he reaches Bokuto’s foot. From there his eyes lick along the hairy legs, the muscular calf that is taut with tension from the cold. Bokuto struggles visibly. What a wonderful sight, the younger muses. His hands reach on either of Bokuto’s legs and he runs them up the shins, firms his grip around the knees and pushes the legs apart. They hang out the shower tub, knees bent sloppily over the edge. Needless to say the water splashes out the cabin for it’s kept open for Akaashi to reach inside. 

“What I am going to do with you…” Akaashi’s voice is slow and quiet. It takes a lot of concentration for Bokuto to listen properly. “I will emasculate you.” 

Bokuto tenses immediately and tries to kick out. Thanks to the elder’s poor condition it is easy for Akaashi to evade, otherwise he would probably be thrown against the next surface behind him. A click of his tongue voices Akaashi’s displeasure. “Not literally. Mentally.” He licks his lips. It is not calming Bokuto in the least. Not because he sees the tongue flick out to moisten the lips that have run so dry, also not because he can see the excited glint in Akaashi’s green, but because he is very confident that Akaashi _can_ castrate him emotionally. Unintentionally mirroring the unseen gesture Bokuto’s tongue flicks out as well, performed in nervousness, not excitement like in Akaashi’s case. 

“Please remain calm, Bokuto-san. Keep your legs spread for me while I put the shackles on you. All I want to do is to make you feel like a different person. I want to put you in my skin for a little bit. Don’t you want that, Bokuto-san? Don’t you want to understand me better? Don’t you want to feel like me?”

It’s an unfair game and Akaashi knows. He knows Bokuto would kill to understand him better. Therefore he also knows that the agreement he gets is not given voluntarily but granted as a result from emotional blackmail. However it is an agreement nonetheless. What comes with it, Akaashi has not realised just yet. It is horror piling up in his slender limbs, something he does not register as such while he puts Bokuto’s ankle into the first shackle. “Sometimes I feel immobile”, Akaashi offers, not exactly sure why he talks. Not sure why he reveals this while taking away Bokuto’s mobility. The promise given to put him into Akaashi’s skin was nothing but a mere eloquent argument to enforce compliance. Still thinking not too much of it he moves on, lips and tongue racing ahead of his brain as the second foot is fastened and the narrow pole in between prolonged to spread Bokuto’s legs to the limits of the shower cabin’s width. “When you refused me earlier, my feet felt heavy”, he keeps explaining. Bokuto would love to reach out to touch Akaashi’s cheek, to cup it and to make him talk more. He wants the confessions and the honesty, just not like this. He wants Akaashi to be calm and secure in front of him, both _free_ of mental bindings. 

“You had a panic attack”, Bokuto tries to explain, but Akaashi shushes him. “I admit I was a little bit out of it when you suddenly decided to put a stop to my emotional needs.” He sighs and runs his fingers up Bokuto’s legs affectionately while he keeps talking. “You were always so good to me. You do have your own head ever since, but that had been a bit harsh to me, you know? Tagging along with you is something I usually enjoy. To a certain extent that is. I also like your compliance. You never hid that you like to be guided and praised. Not everyone can see that you are a born bottom, your looks are very decisive, Bokuto-san. And your skills as a top are incontestable.” Slowly Akaashi rises to his feet. “I will be right back.” Bokuto’s face rises up to meet the cold stream to which he already got used to. It’s unpleasant but it keeps him awake and his mind alert. What Akaashi tells him, is it supposed to influence him? Is it supposed to reach depths of his mind now that he feels all hazy and mushy and open and weak? Is that what Akaashi truly wants to achieve? Have the games already begun to take away Bokuto’s manliness bit by bit? 

The body returns and settles in between Bokuto’s legs again. “Are you thinking about what I am telling you?”, Akaashi asks curiously. The sound of a cap opening resonates. Bokuto’s eyebrows twitch upwards for a moment. “I am. Are you going to fuck me to make a point?”

The question is met by a chuckle. It’s a futile motion for Bokuto can’t see it, but Akaashi shakes his head in disbelief anyway. “Contradicting what I told you about me not possessing a complex personality, I have to disappoint that I am not that shallow either. Conquering your arse has nothing to do with true domination. Anyone can fuck a tied up lad, that doesn’t make a true man though.” Bokuto growls displeased at the answer. Akaashi keeps talking ahead, ignoring the nonverbal complaint. “I prefer to fuck your mind, Bokuto-san. Until you tremble for me like I am the strongest entity. I want you to feel so weak that you truly believe you’d crumble if I’m not there to hold you together.” He applies some shaving foam on his hand. Despite knowing the sound of the product, Bokuto cannot really connect it to such. Instead he pays more attention to Akaashi’s words. “Is that how you feel? Like falling apart without me?” 

“Quite…”, the younger admits hesitantly. “My confidence is real. I have faith in my skills. We are equals, yet next to you nobody reaches up to you. Your role is set to be the flashiest and it suits you well. But the shadows you cast from the height you’re in are big.” 

Bokuto swallows. He can not only feel how honest Akaashi is, he can also feel how difficult it is for his lover to speak this openly. His knees twitch in an attempt to close the legs as Akaashi suddenly applies something in his crotch area, but is met with iron resistance from the metal pole. To be fair, this time it is Bokuto who doesn’t know what to say. Right now he simply accepts the sensation of something getting rubbed around the skin of his penis. The scent of shaving foam reaches his nostrils. It elicits a shiver, partially from the cold, partially from the disgusting feeling. His pubic hair gives him confidence in being a growing potent man. It’s not a pleasant thought to have Akaashi trim it. 

The blade runs down the skin. “Don’t cut!”, Bokuto gasps, forcing his hips still to not dig the sharp edge into his skin by accident. To his surprise Akaashi runs a thumb along the foamed up area, small streaks of water breaking the even white product. “Hold still for me, Bokuto-san. When I am finished with you, you will look pure and bare, like a virgin. You will feel everything on you, the sensation might be a little overwhelming for you too. I too was surprised about how intense it feels to have it off. For I usually just trim, it was really weird to re-experience the nakedness.”

“Do you feel vulnerable when you are shaved?” 

The question catches Akaashi off guard. He has paid no mind to what he says, has just wanted to assault Bokuto’s pride as a man. His own experience has nothing to do with anything, so why has he thrown it in? But he meets Bokuto with enough respect to answer. “Vulnerable is a very bad word…” Akaashi rolls the thought in his head back and forth, wondering what term would be more applicable. Bokuto is faster than that. “You want to be vulnerable towards me. _Keiji_.” 

It’s agitation, tension that comes with the shock of the statement. The blade rises from the partially cleared out area and goes up to the inside of Bokuto’s thigh where it slides down effortlessly, tip pointed, still covered in white and some hair, unwashed and leaving a sharp burn where the red pours out. “I don’t want you to be so bold to me, Bokuto-san.” 

Bokuto hisses in turn, lets water flow in between his halfway parted lips that reveal his grit teeth. It is difficult to breathe like this, it is even more difficult to endure. “I don’t like it”, Bokuto gasps once his jaw muscles have relaxed enough again. In turn Akaashi sets the blade up for a second cut, just to emphasise how displeased he is. “You will behave for me”, Akaashi orders annoyed. Bokuto swallows and spits out some water that keeps invading his mouth while talking. “Yes. I will.” That is his final answer. Seemingly pleased Akaashi returns to where he has left off, washes the foam and hair from the loose blade that is held securely between his fingers and resets it. Bokuto whines as cold fingers come to wrap around his member. 

“You know, Bokuto-san. Whenever you manhandle me, I wonder if you do it because you want me to feel that you are stronger than I am. As if I don’t know this. When I realised you have fun in displaying, it was the same time I figured that it’s capable of distracting me.” Akaashi licks his lips nervously and tilts the limp member upwards to reach beneath. A twitch causes the younger to slip and the scrapes off some skin of Bokuto’s balls, resulting it in immediate bleeding. Akaashi perfectly ignores it. Instead he pauses for a moment, then sighs. “I hate you for refusing me that distraction. You spoiled me, Bokuto-san. I was not forced to meet my feelings as long as you were louder than them.”

“You used me to escape from yourself?” That question was thoughtless and a bad idea. Bokuto witnesses this the second it is spoken for it creates an excruciating pain between his legs that causes him to vehemently tug at the shackles. “I don’t want this!”, he exclaims quickly, but the damage is done. The fine seam connecting his testicles is broken, not too deep, but enough to tint the rivulets in red as the water flowing down licks up the blood and carries it away. Bokuto pants helplessly against the ropes binding his chest. His arms twitch from the efforts of breaking free. The ropes however are reliable and strong. “I don’t want this!”, he repeats loud and clear. Akaashi simply waits in silence as he watches Bokuto’s resistance fall. “Beg me”, Akaashi whispers in a shaky voice. He can’t believe he is losing it again. Ignores Bokuto’s safe word. _Again._

“I don’t want this!”, Bokuto repeats, but Akaashi simply smoothes a hand along the lower stomach of his partner. “Relax for me. If you are good for me, then you are in good hands too.”

“Akaashi!”, Bokuto all but keens. It is music to Akaashi’s ears, but not the kind that makes him shiver happily. It is a shiver filled with dread. Emotions well up that Akaashi doesn’t want to deal with, so he wants to swallow. He wants to silence it! With the blade in his fingers his determination starts to waver. It’s not voices but the shapeless shadows dance again. It’s like a demon’s grip is slithering down his arm, as if a foreign mind is closing in. The blade moves, it moves away from Bokuto. All red flags hiss as this happens. It doesn’t make sense, but the rising distress is so thick in the air, Bokuto can taste it on his tongue. He knows Akaashi is in a state that is way out of his comfort zone and he knows Akaashi is collected, but not when things are like this!

“It’s okay!”, he calls out quickly, stopping Akaashi mid motion. His trembling hand is located close to his own skin, holding the blade too narrowly for his own desire. Bokuto swallows. “I am alright! Okay? You don’t need to feel bad! I’m here, _Keiji!_ ” 

It’s Akaashi who feels like he hasn’t slept in two days. Inside him something begins to lump and to convulse, something that makes him want to puke. But his hand lowers, body shivers. Bokuto shivers too, too frozen from the cold stream that keeps him more awake than he welcomes. 

Slowly Akaashi leans in again. To his surprise Bokuto lets out an exhale that sounds so strained, yet relieved. The next question from Bokuto hits him in the face like a full forced spiked volleyball. “Are you okay?” 

Akaashi’s fingers twitch. “Be quiet” is all he says in return. The shaving continues, but it doesn’t feel like he is emasculating Bokuto anymore. It feels like he finishes it only because this is his pathetic way of establishing a new power relation. What use is in there if Bokuto does it voluntarily? Even worse is that Bokuto’s confidence is so awake that the mouth he had wanted to be open just for screams keeps talking like there is nothing to be afraid of. “’kaashi please! Tell me if you’re okay! It’s alright, I promise.” 

At that Akaashi digs the razor deep into Bokuto’s skin, into his thigh and makes the blood splash out, makes the skin fall apart. He doesn’t drag it, but the pierce is enough to leave a massive wound. The fresh blade has sunken in like a heated knife into room tempered butter. Smooth and easy, deep and effortless. The scream has such a perfect sound to him, Akaashi muses as he pulls the weapon from the cleft. Repeated thrumming sounds make him look up and watch in awe as Bokuto slams the back of his head against the wall repeatedly to get some distraction from the pain in his leg. Wanting more Akaashi moves a bit to the side and repeats, not as deep but strong enough to draw another sloshing stream. The legs tremble against the restraints. Something makes Akaashi feel guilty. So very guilty and so sinister. So pathetic and small and helpless and _mean_.

“I will continue”, the younger whispers, too quiet for his partner to actually hear. As the screaming slowly dies, the haziness is back and Bokuto’s mind is so fogged up from exhaustion that he really thinks he will pass out soon. The sensation of the hair getting removed between his legs is dulled. He’s less aware of what is going on, feels it, but doesn’t at the same time. What’s dominant is the throbbing and the burning that overshadows the wounds around his testicles. It feels like something is pulling, like stinging and burning and it’s cold! Like something sucks out his blood and his strength! It keeps flowing, and shit, he thinks he might begin to cry! 

“It hurts”, he whines, not good with keeping in what he thinks needs to be said. Akaashi twitches at the honesty he’s confronted with. “Please be quiet, Bokuto-san”, he pleads. It’s nothing he wants to deal with right now. He is almost finished anyway. “You look perfect”, Akaashi says instead to bring some positivity into the situation that holds none of such at all. “All pure and pretty just for me.” But Bokuto doesn’t want to hear this. It’s something he simply doesn’t care at the moment! He wants to know about what Akaashi tries to overshadow! 

“You are pure and pretty just for me!” It’s words that hit Akaashi in the guts. He gasps as if he’s hurt physically. Having the words slammed back at him is the most painful realisation that in fact Akaashi is the one who wants to hear these things. Lingering denial causes him to shake his head, forces him to try and shake it off. “I don’t want such compliments, Bokuto-san.” The shaking of his voice betrays him. The weakness of his tone and the tiny hint of evident flattery and embarrassment that swings with it. Akaashi wants to be broken, yes. But not by violence. Being put in this position actually helps him understand. Akaashi uses Bokuto as a mirror. This is the way Koutarou perceives it. 

“You are”, the elder continues urgently. “It’s alright! Everything is alright. Believe me, Keiji! I’m right here! Just _please_! Take the blindfold off! I don’t like this!” 

Despite Bokuto’s words, it is Akaashi who is not ready to face Bokuto from eye to eye. He looks over the wounds he has inflicted and swallows. It is unfair. Akaashi had planned to cut him up good, has wanted to speckle long thin streaks over chest and arms, over legs and cock likewise. He had wanted to torment him for hours, shave him clean and tell him what a pretty bottom he would make. Instead it is Akaashi once again who crumbles. 

“’kaashi babe, listen to me! I’m not mad, okay? I am _not_ mad! It’s okay! Yeah? Everything is okay. I promise! It’s okay! You did nothing wrong, okay? You are still in control right now, so please be strong for me! Just a bit more. I work with you, okay? We can finish and it will be fine. Okay?” 

As the words keep falling, always adding this evil little _okay_ as if nothing in the world is wrong edges Akaashi to tears. He grits his teeth so harsh it hurts. There he is again, Bokuto so skilfully invading him. Immobile and blind, yet seeing so much more within Akaashi than Akaashi is able to recognise within himself. A sob breaks loose. Bokuto darts forward instantly. “It is okay!”, he repeats breathlessly. The new angle gets water everywhere, distracting him more than before, but he remains leaned up to emphasise, to show his concern and to make Akaashi snap out of his state of horror. “You were so good, Keiji! You were so strong! You are so pretty, you are so brave! You spoke so much! You were so perfect, Keiji, do you hear me? You were _perfect_!” 

Akaashi covers his own mouth as he sits back, tears flowing. He wants to bolt, he wants to run, but his eyes are glued to Bokuto. That is nothing he can do to him. Abandoning him. Not when Bokuto reflects what he wants to destroy. Not when he has portrayed himself onto Bokuto, shaved and tied and cut and hurt. Bare and immobile, hurting endlessly. Small and cold and imperfect. That is not he wants to be abandoned. It’s Bokuto, not himself who is in front of him, he knows. But in the end it is neither that he wants to leave behind. 

“It’s okay!”, Bokuto repeats, voice somewhat calmer, less urgent, but still pressing to get through to Akaashi. The lack of response unnerves the elder a bit, but he trusts Akaashi is still around, trusts that Akaashi listens. “But I’m cold, you know? And it hurts. And my sacs itch, I’m not exactly comfortable. Please. Be strong for me. You’re wonderful when you’re in control. So please! Keep it up. Please keep being so wonderful for me, okay? Come here. For me, yes? Come here for me.” 

It’s more an instinct than a rational decision to follow Bokuto’s plea. Akaashi actually crawls close, not sure when he has backed off to the corner of the room throughout the procedure. The blade is lost on the tiled floor, the curly pubic hair is caught in the drain sieve that catches hair before it can clog anything. Akaashi looks at the piled up hair for a moment, then at Bokuto who is still anticipating Akaashi’s return. “Hold out for me?”, Akaashi asks, voice crackling. A relieved smile enters Bokuto’s face. It’s enforced by a nod. Some confidence returns to Akaashi’s cold limps. He knocks over the can of shaving gel by accident as he gets on his feet to unhook the showerhead from the holder. Bokuto still shivers, doesn’t even realise it anymore. Directing the water elsewhere Akaashi adjusts it to lukewarm before he starts to rinse Bokuto from the knees upwards to warm him up a bit. “I untie you in a minute”, he says, soothing Bokuto’s nerves a bit further. As the freezing sensation is exchanged with the warmth that is actually not that warm but feels like so in the high contrast of temperature, Bokuto’s brain becomes hazy. The warmth feels cosy and wraps him in a coat of ill placed comfort. Akaashi’s palm strokes along the unwounded thigh, soothing him. It works perfectly. Behind the blindfold Bokuto’s features relax. “Hurry… I won’t hold out much longer.” 

“I can’t carry you”, Akaashi reminds desperately, somewhat losing his nerves again. He doesn’t know how to place aftercare without making his lover pass out. Bokuto hums tiredly, not helping Akaashi in the slightest. “I also need your help when I untie you! I need you upright. Please hold out for me!” 

To his relief Bokuto slowly forces his slumped position up. “Hurry”, he repeats desperately. In his rush Akaashi forgets that it would make most sense to remove the blindfold first, so he heaves Bokuto into position as best as he can and begins to loosen the knot at the back. “Hurry”, Bokuto repeats, pressuring Akaashi. “Kou, please!”, he hisses. The ropes are tightened from the pulling and stick together from the water. Bokuto’s posture loosens. “Hurry…”, he slurs, sleepy and lost. Akaashi bites his lip, then looks around to find the razor blade. “I’m right back, okay?” It’s met with a faint hum that reflects the growing weakness of Bokuto’s mind. In a quick motion he scoops the blade up, expertly enough not to cut himself, and cuts through the rope aimlessly. Instead of cutting at the base of the knot, he just cuts wherever. As one loose end falls Akaashi doesn’t bother anymore with how expensive this has been and keeps cutting at more anchor points, dissolving the entire structure until it falls off. Only then he unhooks the blindfold and meets Bokuto’s closed eyes. Concerned Akaashi grabs his face and forces him to look up, ghosts his thumbs over Bokuto’s closed eyes. “Are you still with me?”, he asks. Bokuto hums again, too sluggish to reopen them. “Okay. I remove the shackles now. Can you hold out for me?” 

Another hum proves that Bokuto is willing to try. His shaking fingers make it impossible though and Akaashi curses his own plans, curses his clumsiness and inexperience, and especially his _imperfect_ thin nerves. 

“Still there”, Bokuto mumbles absentmindedly. It relieves Akaashi to hear words from him. It also goads him to quick thinking. Instead of opening the shackles he unhooks them from the durable trigger hook. It will do, he thinks and pushes the pole away. Bokuto shakes with cold, still not warmed up despite the water still raining down on him. Akaashi sits in front of him and carefully tugs at Bokuto’s wrists. It is then that Bokuto finally squints and opens his eyes. The first sight he is met with after the blinding of the light is subsided, is Akaashi’s concerned and relieved face. Not willing to repeat Akaashi’s horrors from last time, Bokuto plans to be encouraging. He wants Akaashi to leave the situation with a good feeling. …well, at least with a better one than last time. He doesn’t want Akaashi to need to flee from what he has done. Slowly they will work this up together. Bit by bit. Talking about it, maybe even recreating it and carefully changing details until nothing is left but a wonderful mutual scene of trust and reversing roles. With Akaashi in control. Perfect, safe and sane. 

“Hey”, Bokuto croaks. Akaashi is about to reply, but Bokuto is faster. Slow and sleepy, yet still faster. “You were so perfect, babe. So so perfect just for me.” The effort is so great, but Bokuto leans in to hug his sweet little deathly terrified Akaashi. The cold seeps through the thin layer of lace, seeps through the skin and down his heart. For some reason the hug still feels warm. Not physically warm, but comforting. Emotionally warm. Bokuto is not mad. He is relieved. And so is Akaashi. “Come on, Kou. To bed. Okay?” 

Bokuto hums tiredly and smiles, crooked and lost. He feels so dizzy it’s not funny anymore. But Akaashi is right by his side and helps him up. Their stance is weak. He doesn’t know how Bokuto is doing it, but he surprises Akaashi by the ability to talk still after all the things that have happened. “You look so beautiful, Keiji. Keep wearing it…” He yawns and almost topples over as he does, stumbling above his own feet. Neither knows how, but Keiji is capable of holding the massive body up as he half drags him to the bed. Left behind after each step is a red trail coming from the deeply wounded thighs. Bokuto also subconsciously avoids applying pressure. It’s not good to see this, but first of all he wants Koutarou to lie down.

“Do you want water?”, Akaashi asks as the thick body sinks into the sheets, soaking the spot beneath his thigh into blood instantly. “Or chocolate? Can I do anything for you?” 

As Bokuto flops down, he merely groans and pats the spot beside him, indicating nonverbally what he wants. It elicits a distraught frown from the black haired. “I can’t. I need to get a patch and-“

“Come”, Bokuto groans, demanding his Akaashi by his side. “But my clothes…”, Akaashi tries again, still not sure what he needs to do in this situation. He can’t leave Bokuto untreated, he can’t leave the lingerie on either, can he? Bokuto pats the spot again. “Come”, he growls impatiently. “First I want to patch you up.” It earns Akaashi a whine in return. “Come!”, Bokuto tries again, but all he gets is a kiss on the hipbone. “Half a minute, okay? Just two patches for you.” With that he strokes along the wounded thigh, the outside though not to touch anything bloody. Then he rushes out the room, very much to Bokuto’s utter dismay.

Once he is back he sees that Bokuto has forced himself up, eyes unfocused and halfway rolled up, indicating that his brain is about to give out. “Hu..uu..rry…” he mutters. It makes Akaashi almost smile, wouldn’t he be so well aware of the horrifying nature of the situation. With a swift motion he forces the legs further apart and readjusts Bokuto’s leg to tilt it upwards. Such a leg has much more weight than Akaashi has ever anticipated. It’s heavy but it’s manageable to move around. Stressed, yet oddly collected he presses the disinfectant drenched gauze onto the wound to kill off possible bacteria. Bokuto jerks up for a moment, too tired to actually complain like a fully conscious Ace would. “Huuurts…”, he slurs, but that is all that comes from him. Akaashi takes the gauze away and pushes a thick pad on top of the bigger cut before he applies the patch properly. That should do enough to soak the blood for now. The process is repeated at the other wound as well, causing Bokuto to twitch again, this time without a word. 

Once finished, Akaashi tosses everything aside blindly, wipes up the blood that has gone down his leg during the walk and then adjusts the covers to slip beneath. The last thing he does is to shake Bokuto more awake carefully to urge him from the slumped sitting position into a lying down one. The elder is obedient, helpful in his sluggish clumsy motions, and admittedly it is oddly hot. However not in an arousing way. The manner in which Bokuto slacks over and falls into Akaashi, then trembling raises two weak arms to hug Keiji after everything is so heart warming to him that it feels like he is catching fire. 

Gentle mumbling promises Akaashi how much he is loved. In turn Akaashi presses his entire body against Koutarou, lets his partner feel the lingerie, lets his partner feel his warmth as they share a blanket. Bokuto is passed out faster than either of them can comprehend. The last thing Koutarou does is placing a palm on Keiji’s waist where the garter belt holds up the stockings. It is otherworldly how fast Bokuto’s body adapts, for the palm is already comfortably warm again. 

It is strange to return to normal after such abnormality, yet Akaashi doesn’t want to decline. If Bokuto really isn’t mad, if _his_ strong and reliable and always honest Bokuto _really_ isn’t mad, then maybe there is a little chance that Akaashi doesn’t have an absolute reason to be mad at himself either. Maybe it is not so unrealistic what Bokuto said earlier. Maybe everything really is going to be alright. Maybe Akaashi really wants to be vulnerable. _Maybe being honest is not so scary after all._


	10. Acceptance

Once Bokuto’s eyes flutter open the first thing he realises is the pleasurable scent of thoroughly seasoned vegetable soup dancing through the air. Driven by hunger he leans up immediately only to fall back with a long drawn groan. That turns into an even louder whine as he realises just how horrible the back of his head hurts that has just flopped into his pillow. It definitely takes him a while to let the memories from the day before return to him, his brain still denying the complete truth of what has happened. 

The door opens a tad. Akaashi stands in the narrow opening and offers a heart warming smile. It looks domestic, the way he stands there, wearing a wide pullover and those jogging pants Bokuto loves so much. An apron on top and the pretty white cloth that keeps his hair back. Not that he needs it but Akaashi is aware that it looks cute on him, the entire getup more a show than a necessity. 

After staring at each other for a while Akaashi resolves to slithering into the room quietly. The blends are lowered, the transparent drapes closed to dim any light. Bokuto looks adorable the way he is, Akaashi thinks. Vulnerable, beaten, maybe even a little bit debauched. What concerns him most is that Bokuto hasn’t spoken a single word yet. Usually Bokuto is the eager one. 

The matrass dips beneath Akaashi’s weight as the black haired gathers up his entire bravery to walk up to his lover’s bedside to sit beside him. His hand lands on Bokuto’s arm, the nail polish from last night already gone again. Just because he can pull it off doesn’t mean he likes it established in his regular life. The lace, make-up and lingerie kink was something like that in particular. Rare, intense, short lived. 

To his relief Bokuto reaches up and covers Akaashi’s hand in a gentle and welcoming manner. The owl seems to catch up on his partner’s distress and guilt, so he shifts carefully and pulls Akaashi’s hand up to his lips to kiss it gracefully. However as soon as the kiss is done the usually stronger man sinks back beneath his cover and exhales. The concern is written all over Akaashi’s face. 

“Do you need anything?”, he asks carefully, too scared to actually ask how Bokuto is feeling. The mild shake of the dually coloured hair crowned head draws a pressed exhale from the younger. He wishes for Bokuto to speak, but doesn’t dare to demand for it. “I placed water by your bedside table. Along with pain killers and some chocolate.” 

The words are met with silence. Bokuto simply stares up at him. The exchange of looks is heavy, lingers heavy and slowly makes Akaashi’s entirety shrink to void. For a moment his lips twitch into a helpless, awkward smile that lasts less than a second, and once dropped his gaze averts. The golden eyes still linger on him, Akaashi feels it. He can’t meet them anymore. 

Since the entire day Akaashi has done everything to prepare an apology. Not only the soup, but also a great instruction for tuna steak. The table was set as neatly as they had it throughout their first week of living together. Decoration, a candle and juice in wine glasses just because it is hilarious to pretend. The kitchen is squeaky clean, so is the bath, all remnants of blood gone, the scarf washed and hung up to dry. For Bokuto Akaashi has washed the pastel grey robe with the scented fabric softener. It is pretty much dry by now, ready to be worn, but now that he thinks about it, maybe that was over the top. He shouldn’t have washed it, he thinks, and wonders secretly if Bokuto would take him serious if the elder knew how much effort he brought up only to show that he was sorry. Akaashi could just verbally apologise and talk it over. 

Back to the stove Akaashi lifts the lid of the pot to give the soup a stir, then a taste. Since it simmers quite long already, on low heat though, he is afraid the vegetables lose their firmness to the bite, but that is not the case. Now that Bokuto is awake, Akaashi pulls the soup from the hot field and turns off the heat. The tuna is not prepared yet, it’s planned for dinner. The main dish after the soup is rice with tofu, a simple recipe spiced up with a twist of uncommon seasoning and fresh herbs to support the way Akaashi plans on plating. Though he is not a pro he knows his way around, the natural sense for aesthetics supporting his skills greatly. 

A quick check on the clock makes him frown, then bite his lips. Bokuto has not gotten up yet. It has been twenty minutes since his last check on his partner. Maybe Bokuto is much more irritated than he lets on. 

From what he has seen Bokuto has bought cocoa and milk last night. Not regular milk, but the almond milk Akaashi prefers. Even his favourite brand with the organic stamp that promises only the best conditions of production. The expensive one. 

In their fridge there still lingers some dark cooking chocolate as well. Akaashi gets the ingredients ready, heats a small amount of milk on the stove and begins to prepare some hot chocolate. Part of the milk is set aside to be whirred into steady foam for a later topping. While he performs the concoction conscientiously he still has trouble putting his heart into it. Throughout the entire morning and the day up until now Akaashi feels hollow and remote controlled. Despite full awareness nothing he accomplishes has that spark of genuineness coming with it. 

The hot chocolate is ready, smells perfect and sweet, cooked with real cocoa powder, topped with handmade milk foam and speckled with some cocoa powder and some dark chocolate rasps. It is a masterpiece and wonderful and exactly what Akaashi thinks is a suitable gesture to help Bokuto start his day. But the longer he looks at it, the more this seems over the top, too ass-crawling and set up. If Bokuto would think this is nothing but a shallow way of trying to fix things, then it would also mean that he gets rejected, correct? He doesn’t want that. It feels terrifying to come to this conclusion, but another rejection would be something Akaashi doesn’t think he’s capable of handling. So instead of taking the double-sized cup and bringing it over to the bedroom, Akaashi walks over to the sink. For a tiny moment he considers pouring the still almost boiling drink over his hand and into the drain, just so he can figure out if he still feels something at all, but decides against it eventually and simply disposes of it like so. 

To distract himself he washes the cup and the spoon, the small pot in which the milk was heated and the milk foamer too. Then he stores it away. Another check on the clock tells him Bokuto is awake for more than half an hour now. It is futile to come and try to get him. Probably. Maybe he should just put some soup into a bowl and bring it to bed instead of expecting the other to get up. Maybe he should give Bokuto some space to eat alone. A quick stare to the table makes him cringe. All of these things he does have that ridiculous connotation of ass crawling. He shivers at the sight and begins to remove the dishes, removes the decoration and throws the flowers into the garbage bin. Nothing feels more frustrating than not knowing what to do!

Desperate for a solution, Akaashi walks up to the couch and flops down. He wants to pour the soup down the toilet and wants to offer just the rice and tofu, wants to seem like he doesn’t put any mind into anything, that everything is still normal and that he doesn’t feel guilty so Bokuto will not pay any attention to Akaashi’s distress. He doesn’t want to be seen through. What he really wants is to continue like before. With all the unhealthy habits. Maybe he can convince Bokuto once again to give it another shot. 

The fingers of his right hand travel over to the left wrist where the bandage is. For a second his eyes check the door to the hallway making sure Bokuto really isn’t up and ready to catch him. Once convinced his eyes droop, muscles relax with a strong exhale. Then he clenches. It hurts but it is not too bad. The wrist is healing well, despite being a very young wound. It’s enough to send piercing shivers down his arm, creating stinging tickles at spots he cannot relate to. It is weird how the body connects, he thinks, how pain at one spot can create sensations entirely elsewhere. It’s alright. It is not bad, just confusing.

The pressure lasts for a while until he lets go, takes deep breaths. By now he feels a little more grounded, back to normal. It isn’t self-harm what he performs per se, but it definitely is a nice substitute to what usually is Bokuto’s job to perform. 

Speaking of Bokuto, he should check on him. Maybe the owl has just fallen back to sleep, the lack of such has been piling up over quite some time after all. So again he shoves the door open a tad and peeks through. The head topped by dishevelled hair turns and Akaashi sees the golden eyes giving him a questioning look. The water is untouched, the younger sees it from over here. So are the pain killers and so is the chocolate. Now he is glad that he has disposed of the hot chocolate. Bokuto would have declined it, he is confident about that. 

With tiny careful tiptoed steps Akaashi approaches the bedside of his partner once again, doesn’t dare to sit with him again. The kiss on his knuckles has been nice, but he doubts Bokuto will do it again. Not after declining all offers of a little comfort. 

What he has not anticipated is the intense expectation he finds in Bokuto’s eyes. Something that Akaashi cannot figure out. The silence is killing him. It seems like Bokuto is searching for something. It doesn’t make any sense. That observant, attentive stare, the mild confusion all over his face. Has the elder hit his head too hard last night, he wonders. Should he check on him, should he be the responsible one and call an ambulance? Should he call a medical advisory line to figure out what to do? Honestly he feels too young as to make a responsible decision on his own. 

For just a little more the stare lingers. So does the silence. It is Akaashi who pulls away first, obviously, since he is the one standing, the one who’s mobile and healthy as he can be with choke marks on his neck and a patch on his shoulder and bruises all over his arms, chest, stomach, back… And the wrist. 

He wants Bokuto to get up, wants his partner to say that he’s hungry, but nothing comes. No confirmation that everything is alright. The twitch of his lips is back, the insecurity and the helpless attempt to smile encouragingly, only to be disrupted by the dreading cold that washes over. There is no use in trying, normality is not achievable for them. So he turns again and leaves the room. As the door closes behind him, not entirely, only barely left ajar he really wishes Bokuto would call out for him. The voice never comes. What he thinks is best is that they heal up and return to school the next day. It is futile missing out more days just to sort out what they have or what they don’t have any longer. Still Akaashi doesn’t want to break up. There is more to everything than him using Bokuto for distraction. He does love the owl, does want to create a future with him, or at least a life for as long as it will last until graduation will rip them apart. 

He sighs deeply. Their unison was never meant to last. What they do here is a child’s game of playing family in an oddly simplified way. Before he notices, Akaashi’s feet have dragged him to the bathroom. He pulls open the bow of the apron that is tied behind his back and slips out of it, then pulls off the pullover. Bokuto probably hasn’t noticed in the dim lights of day, but the sweater he is wearing is Bokuto’s. 

It goes on the counter. The washing machine blinks red, stating that it’s done with its duty. Akaashi turns it off, pulls over a basket and digs in to pull all the damp clothing out. He needs to hang them up before the laundry starts to reek. First however there are different urges he wants to cover. The sleeveless shirt beneath the pullover is removed, leaving Akaashi with a deep copper coloured lace bandeau with beads worked along the enforced edges. As he stares at his reflection, he wonders if Bokuto would laugh should he see him like that. All dressed up and hidden beneath layers. Only to be revealed should Bokuto be overwhelmed by curiosity- 

His head shakes the thoughts off before they can run off to directions that are not welcome right now. They do not even talk, why would Bokuto want to undress him in the first place? So he takes advantage of his now revealed shoulder and tugs off the patch that covers the bite mark where Bokuto has broken the skin and squeezed the nerve. Lucky or to his dismay, that is arguable, Akaashi doesn’t feel too much. The squeeze of the nerve has left his senses dulled around the area. Not too much but still enough to experience the ripping off of the patch as if it’s not his skin, but a layer glued to it. The area is red where the sticky surface has had its grip to the skin. The bite mark itself doesn’t look too pleasing. It seems like it has gotten infected a bit. It’s red and swollen around the corners, somewhat yellow where the crust has built. It disgusts Akaashi to appear like this. 

In order to fix himself up he drenches a fresh wash cloth in water as hot as the faucet can get, then puts it on to let the wound soak a little bit. He’d remove the excessive crust and disinfect it later on. While the rag sits on his shoulder, Akaashi scoops up the laundry basket and begins to hang it up above the bathtub. Every two pieces done he redrenches the cloth on his shoulder with newly hot water to get the best result. 

With the laundry done eventually, Akaashi turns back to the mirror and uses the same cloth to carefully rub off what has built up. First he washes his hands thoroughly, then he leans in to have a better look at it. Carefully he squeezes around the spot, awkward in position, not really capable of doing so for it is not easy to manoeuvre half sitting on a counter, practically pressing oneself to a mirror. A little bit of pus squeezes out. It gives Akaashi a disgusted shiver. Quickly the faucet is turned on again and he washes his hands beneath hot water, scrubs eagerly to get the disgusting liquid off. Next time he does the squeezing it is done with a tissue on top. He should have done this earlier he thinks, but it doesn’t do much better for the tissue soaks it up and Akaashi feels the dampness of his fluids on it. He deeply wishes his body wouldn’t be such a despicable thing! 

Over and over he repeats, squeezing, washing, scrubbing, until the bite mark looks worse than before, until it is torn open around the edges, bleeding and unhealthy. To get it clean Akaashi has grabbed a sponge and rubbed to get all the dirt out, all the bacteria, all the vile fluids. It looks better now that it’s nothing but red, the blood being the least he is sensitive to. 

A cotton pad is grabbed by tweezers and Akaashi drenches it with disinfecting alcohol. Before he does what he intends to do he bites the insides of his cheek, ready to take in what is about to come. His eyes clench shut and the hand moves down, pressing the wet piece into his skin. 

Akaashi twitches, hisses and leans his head against the mirror, tears forming from the searing pain. It’s good, he tells himself, it’s perfect, it is what he needs. It is the least he can do after what he has done to Bokuto, it’s the least he can offer to compensate for his guilt. Enforced by these thoughts the applied pressure increases, squeezing the alcohol from the pad and seeping into the sore skin. A pitiful whine comes with the action. It’s grounding to be weak. It feels good to overshadow those loud hauntings with louder screams of swallowed pain. Akaashi doesn’t feel like a victim, doesn’t want to be considered as such. For the outside world he wants his stance to be secure and even. He can do it as long he has an outlet to channel all the dark things coming from within. 

Over time the disinfectant loses its burn, either the body used to the pain now, or dulled from other thoughts. Akaashi doesn’t know, what’s important is that the means of pain is gone, so he sprays it with wound spray, adds a new patch and wraps it up. It looks nastier than before, bigger from the scrubs and blood, but it’s alright. This is what he got from Bokuto, so it’s great.

He gives a deep sigh. Suddenly he realises that he has left the bathroom door wide open. Shock numbs him into place for he dearly prays Bokuto has not heard his whines, rustles and everything coming with what he has done to himself. Not even Bokuto is allowed to judge him about it. If there is one thing he has figured out so far, it is that Bokuto judges self harm about Akaashi. …then again. Did it count as such when he was just taking care of the wound? Presumably not… But deep down Akaashi knows that actually, the way he does the thing, it does count.

To make sure everything is alright, Akaashi peeks into the bedroom once again. Bokuto seems to have been anticipating, for his eyes are fixed on the door, then on Akaashi once the younger entered. The searching sensation is not gone, Akaashi feels explored when he is looked at. Then he freezes and slams the door shut, leaning against it on the outside, panting heavily. The shirt! He forgot to put it back on! The goddamn shirt, the pullover and the apron! All the layers that hide his bandeau that sits so neat and soft and perfect that Akaashi has forgotten that, no, his upper body _isn’t_ bare!

It takes him a few seconds to collect himself. Now it is too late anyway, but he doesn’t want to give off the impression of being after sex, not after that night they had, so he returns to the bathroom and throws the tank top back on, the sweater on top. The apron remains gone, the white cloth leaves his hair. He looks somewhat dishevelled now, but it’s nothing a comb and hairspray can’t fix temporarily. So he does just that. 

Eventually he wonders if he should bring the ointment for Bokuto. The one for the hands. The fabric gloves to protect the hands during the night have never been put on again after their weird shower bondage torture session. They are washed and neat and clean again. Maybe Akaashi should start with offering some care? For the hands… Should he really offer, or would it make Bokuto feel despised for having a skin reaction? In the end he blames Bokuto for it anyway, according to the phone call his partner had with Kuroo, it’s a reaction to one of the cleaning products, so he figures Bokuto has refrained from using gloves when handling the aggressive carpet solution. Hasn’t he scolded Bokuto a million times already that when cleaning gloves are mandatory? Well, now Bokuto is finally disproven from his argument of ‘ _My hands can’t get cleaner than clean_ ’, because they can. They can take serious damage from the acids and chemicals. Now Bokuto knows. 

Great. Now Akaashi is curious as to what shape the hands are in. 

A quick check in the mirror tells him that he looks fine enough and that no lace peeks out. Not from his pants, nor from his shirts. Just in case he fetches the gloves and the ointment, but he’s hesitant about returning into the room. What would Bokuto think? Usually Akaashi never struggles with such worries, however currently they are way too real. He doesn’t want to enter only to be met with silence again. The hand located on the handle of the bedroom door trembles. Akaashi cannot bring himself to press it down. All the strength within him is not enough to enter a single room. There is no way he can predict if Bokuto is waiting for him or hoping that Akaashi doesn’t invade again. Yet he guesses for the latter since Bokuto has not uttered a single word during the first times Akaashi has offered the little company. Getting turned down another time is nothing he thinks he can handle. 

The hand sinks lower, slips from the cold metal. As he stands in front of the door, he genuinely wonders if this is the time when their relationship has found its end. Obviously he cannot blame Bokuto for this. Their dynamics as Wing Spiker and Setter won’t change, he knows that much, for their team spirit in Volleyball has always been a matter that is outside of their private life. It is something entirely different, so he is confident that the team won’t suffer from it, nor will their success rate. 

His head is upright, the neck straight. The posture of confidence is fake for his eyes have no focus, his mind nothing to attach to. The emptiness is eating him up, devours him from within and it feels so odd to be confronted with that again when usually Bokuto was there to catch him in between. When Bokuto granted him everything just to forget how tormenting it was to live a life of success that his parents have chosen for him. When everything less than perfection was unacceptable and a cause of quarrel. If it was him, Akaashi would have chosen a path along the line of art, something obscure, expressive and storytelling. Marketing, design, photography maybe. A writing career. Anything.

Faintly he remembers his childhood. Yes he has been a shy one, but wild in his stupid ideas. Somewhere along the way Akaashi has lost that purity and naiveté. That is among the many reasons why Akaashi secretly admires Bokuto. Bokuto seems so true to himself. There are fears, there is so much energy and then let’s talk about the overwhelming honesty. He wonders if Bokuto’s parents have ever restricted their son. It doesn’t seem like this, otherwise Bokuto would be much more screwed up than he is. Although, that desire for perfection Bokuto brings along is kind of bordering on exactly that. The emo mode speaks for itself. 

The younger sighs deeply. He is sure Bokuto never goes through such excessive thinking. That conviction leads him to considering himself even more isolated and not exactly misunderstood, but rather not understood at all. They differ a lot and it is unfair to expect Bokuto to comprehend what is going on with Akaashi, and Akaashi is not as delusional as to think mind reading and unconditional empathy is a thing, yet on the other hand wouldn’t it be nice if it were? On both ends. If only he could guess Bokuto’s thoughts, needs, desires right now. So he could take good care of him and not fix but at least work on it. 

For the millionth time Akaashi heaves the memories from last night in his head. Yes, the plans have been different. Not less violent, actually on the other end of that string, Akaashi has wanted Bokuto to pretty much bleed out for him, with shallow wounds, not the deep ones he has inflicted impulsively. He has wanted to indulge in dirty talk and wreck Bokuto to the point where his body would have forgotten about how tired it is, until Bokuto would have been hard for him like an iron pole. Like the spreader bar. It reminds Akaashi that Bokuto’s ankles are still trapped in the shackles. With nothing to be attached on they are rendered to be an accessory, but that doesn’t matter, it must feel uncomfortable. 

No matter how the black haired looks at it, he feels like he needs to get to Bokuto, like he needs to accompany him and relieve him from the bindings, the memories and… whatever there might linger from that time. He wonders if it is an adequate thing to do to change the patches for Bokuto. To check on the cuts between his legs, to check on the shallower cuts he hasn’t aided. 

His hesitation keeps him from doing so. He can’t get up. His legs feel heavy. But when he thinks about an outlet it is no trouble for him to get on his feet at all. Only the bedroom is a red flag that he circles without getting too close, like a contaminated area. 

The clock handle hits three by the time Akaashi is back on his seat, the laptop set up in front of him, a text book beside him. What he wants to do is express himself. What he does is studying, summarising topics he needs for the next exam that is history for him. It doesn’t relieve him at all, even though his thoughts are swallowed by expertly trained concentration. There is nothing expressive about studying. It is interesting and knowledge is intriguing, smartness is sexy, but it is nothing he actually _likes_ to identify himself with.

The implanted demand for perfection doesn’t relieve its grip from him though and Akaashi sinks deep into the subject matter until he forgets time, hunger, the cooled soup and Bokuto. Something in his head transfers him into isolation. Like a trance, deep in a meditative state. When he realises he should work up the details he decides against the internet and wants to go through more compact information from the additional school books he has left in his room where the desk is mainly for himself to work, not for Bokuto who is too messy to use a desk strategically. 

Bokuto is the last on his mind as he enters the room without a second thought, glasses for the screen work enthroning his elegant nose, sweater loosely hanging from a shoulder and pen behind his ear. It is Akaashi in full-fledged “Keiji-mode”, focused on a matter and instinctively becoming kind of a creative mess. The lingerie beneath his clothes are forgotten, the joggers ill fitted with the sweater, but perfect with the unseen tank top. The pen behind his ear is something he never does with people around, but he likes the feeling of it, the feeling of being a little different and extravagant. 

Bokuto’s stare is warm as he follows the black haired with his darker golden eyes, body unmoving for he doesn’t want to frighten Akaashi out of his visibly deeply concentrated state. It is difficult to see because of the faint lighting, but Akaashi’s features are smoothed out, wrinkles of worry gone, lips slightly apart The glasses make him look like a university student, adorn him with an aura of pure knowledge and authority. Unlike Akaashi, Bokuto can see the younger in jobs of high ranks and business suits, of responsibility and power. The occasions are rare, but one time Akaashi had to participate at a family dinner he had dressed up in a perfectly fitted suit. If anyone has ever seen Akaashi wearing a suit, they would know, that appearance hits different! Everyone would drop their pants for Akaashi wearing a godforsaken suit! And the glasses and the pen right there, it’s so difficult not to moan at that thought!

As Akaashi is in front of the shelf, his finger goes along the neatly organised spines of topically arranged books. His lips move with each title, whispering it silently to himself. Like this Akaashi gives off the impression of a scatterbrain, a confused queer nerd with no awareness for reality. It’s adorable how the face twitches into brighter features for just a moment when Akaashi seems to have found the desired book. It’s opened on the front page and the finger goes down the index. It’s put aside and the search begins anew. Akaashi hasn’t looked Bokuto’s way so far. 

A bit tired of the lack of attention the owl decides to stretch and groan, causing Akaashi to twitch and turn in surprise. It is lovely how the eyes go wide, long adapted to the dimness in here. Bokuto’s sharp vision recognises the wide pupils up to where he is. Akaashi’s lips are still halfway apart, cheeks relaxed and frozen mid motion, the finger of his right hand still lingering where the books are lined. 

Instead of greeting Bokuto motions for Akaashi to come over. The younger doesn’t react. He is so pulled out from his focus that it is difficult to regain his grasp of reality. To make it easier for Akaashi the elder leans up and waves him over again, opens his arms and expects a hug. 

Feet drag the slender structure that is Akaashi’s body to the bed automatically. He is slow and still somewhat off, but the direction is clear. It’s Bokuto who groans as he gets up further to hug Akaashi warmly. It hits the younger off guard and with so much surprise that he still doesn’t know what to do. He feels frozen, literally frozen and stagnating. The arms are raised halfway in what might have been an attempt of defence interrupted by the security that none is needed. 

Akaashi’s brain has stopped working, Bokuto feels it. He can feel the heart beat. It is fast and nervous, jumping eagerly within that beautiful chest. What actually pleases him is that Akaashi doesn’t tremble. Carefully the tall standing frame is pulled down and on top of Bokuto. Once being moved around Akaashi regains his senses slowly. The trembling is back. Bokuto’s words hit him, hit his heart, hit his senses. 

“Morning, ‘kaashi.” 

_It’s like a dam breaks lose._

Akaashi flops onto his chest and clings to the firm shoulders, hides his face where he can feel Bokuto’s heart beat in turn and he just _sobs_. His tears come like a waterfall, the sobbing becomes so loud it resembles a small child hurting and screaming for attention. It’s all breaking out, for the first time, it comes so unexpected and without a reason, it’s ridiculous. On the inside Akaashi is judging himself for it, but the gentle strokes around his back that are meant to soothe and to accept are louder. The words Bokuto mumbles to Akaashi are unheard, mix in with the crying and yet still overlap the judgement Akaashi holds over himself. It’s the vibrations of Koutarou’s rough voice that massage his brain to further mush. Fingers play in the dark hair, dig into the scalp for appreciating motions. 

He is melting, he feels it. It feels horrible. He feels so vulnerable being so accepted. In the simplest way as he is, with his flaws and the self hatred, the lost identity and the madness coming with the struggle of not knowing who you are. It is alright for Bokuto that Keiji is not the man he wants to be, that he’s a doll raised by means to achieve, not to live. All habits are torn down, he feels like Bokuto wants to rebuild him to become a human, not a machine. 

The fingers along his body alter, from stroking through his strands to ghosting over his neck, giving firm caresses along the spine and ribs, wherever Bokuto pleases there is touch. Kisses fall into black locks while tears fall into Bokuto’s chest. Akaashi holds onto him, doesn’t know what else to do. The best part of it is that Koutarou never stops talking. He offers him comfort that Akaashi screams over, but it all reaches far deeper than the ears. 

The most nerve wrecking thing about the situation is how much more painful this feels compared to their code words, how much deeper the stabs go when he’s told he’s loved without a doubt, without a rule and without a single condition. There is no need for success like in his family. There is no need for accuracy like in Volleyball. There is no need for quick thinking like in conversations. There is no need to show off, impress or pose. Akaashi is taken as he is, and it hits so deep that it throws over all his convictions and determinations he has grown up with. It doesn’t make sense as he feels the world he has been planted in crumble around and crash. It leaves him in the middle of nothing. Ruins and cold and night surround him in his head, always with the protective fence around him that is not a bastion any longer. It is Bokuto’s arms holding tight, keeping the stones from falling onto him, keeping the storm raging in the outside world away from him. 

As the tears subside, Akaashi tries to snuggle even closer, wants to crawl into Bokuto’s lap and rest there like a little chick in its nest. 

Carefully Bokuto pulls the pen away and puts it to the bedside table. His fingers trace the fresh patch along the shoulder. “Are you hurting?”, Bokuto whispers curiously, voice unusually smooth and quiet, sounding so considerate and tender. To his own surprise Akaashi shakes his head, denies because it’s true. Everything has stopped. For a short moment everything has silenced and ceased, the shadows down at bay and no sinister grasps that take him over, that crawl up. No monsters that threaten him to be ripped apart. Only Bokuto who holds him together with a simple hug. If only he has known earlier how relieving and healing this could be. He would have skipped the entire violence. He would have skipped the trouble and the pain. It is right now that he realises so many mistakes, the judging slowly coming back. 

Bokuto rolls over with him so they lie side by side. Akaashi is a mess, wet from tears and damp breath against Bokuto’s skin, snot and drool from uncontrolled emotions. It’s disgusting, it’s despicable! And it’s okay for Bokuto.

Akaashi shivers at the thoughts of what he must look like, what picture he must deliver. It’s the first attempt of his to pull away, to hide that side of him, but again Bokuto’s strong and reliable arms keep him into place. All thoughts dissolve with his resistance, he leans against Bokuto’s neck and sobs anew. It’s happening just then. The words Akaashi didn’t know how to say. They pour out, yelled and screamed and pitiful. “I’m sorry! Bokuto-san, I’m sorry!” Over and over until they lose their meaning. Like nothing has a meaning anymore. Only apologies pouring from a well of regret. The more often he says it, the less the pressure gets inside. It’s like puking out excessive contaminants, each apology cleansing him further until there is no more. 

Bokuto keeps holding him the entire time, guides Akaashi through his breakdown. Is there to keep him from falling. 

No words exist to describe the relief Bokuto feels that Akaashi is finally brave enough to show true colours. All he does is holding Akaashi close, repeating his true feelings over and over. 

_I love you, Keiji, truly love you. I love you, Keiji._


End file.
